Never Miss a Sunrise
by Mademoiselle Anime Amour
Summary: Organization XIII is shattered, each member dealing with the fallout of war, lies, and emotional scars. After so long in the dark, they will each have to carve out their own path toward dawn. For, with hearts come purpose. With light comes redemption. Rated T for language and sexual situations. Near-unapologetic KH3 AU. Heavy spoilers.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hey there, guys, so you would think I'd learn by now not to juggle two in-progress fics at once yet here I am! This one was begging to be put out-well, the prologue and this first chapter anyway. I'll give credit where it's very much due to Bighead98 who came up with the request prompt of a fic of Org. XIII getting their hearts (or, rather, humanity, and there's Nomura with the retcon) back. That old chestnut-HOWEVER, with KH3 being out and with a story that has...well, plenty of room for improvement, I think it's a great time to explore these characters around and post-Xehanort Saga. And besides, I actually have never done a full-length fic (even if it's still going to be 15-16 chapters, likely, one chapter per Org. member excluding prologue and epilogue) involving these characters post-War. So, this will actually be quite the ambitious undertaking for me. I hope you will enjoy going along for the ride.**

**Oh, and of course, I can't resist the inclusion of song lyrics before every chapter. I've come up with quite the soundtrack for this one so far. *This set might seem a bit basic, but I couldn't get this song out of my head when thinking up the prologue*.**

**Without further ado...**

* * *

_Whenever I step outside, somebody claims to see the light_

_It seems to me that all of us have lost our patience_

_'Cause everyone thinks they're right, and nobody thinks that there just might_

_Be more than one road to our final destination_

_-_"Same Direction", Hoobastank

* * *

**Prologue**

Second chances have never been guaranteed to those who've sought them. Whether to cancel out a troublesome mistake in the hopes that it can be swept under the rug or out of a genuine desire for improvement, they often come in many forms. Not so much results of black-and-white morality, a sort of overarching law governing everyone, but the shades of gray that reside within every heart. Perhaps because the second chance in mind often varies from person to person, with the added complications of second-guessing and the need to be validated. The need to be proven right.

The eve of the Battle of the Keyblade Graveyard was emotionally fraught, as most involved heavily weighed this idea of second chances…especially if the chips fell in their favor to where they could fulfill them after the melee, should they survive. And no matter how far apart they all were at the moment, whether they were Keepers of Darkness or Guardians of Light, they were united in apprehension for the future. Would there even be a future? Was there hope for them, no matter the outcome? Would they enjoy the freedom they were longing for?

In one corner of the universe, the three Destiny Islands heroes were sitting on their favorite tree, savoring these last moments of bonding together before the dawn. In another, two of the Wayfinders stayed up in the guest room of Yen Sid's tower, trying to cheer themselves up with stories of the third friend who had yet to rejoin them. In still another, Xehanort regaled his less-than-enthused collective with war strategy and how they were to crush their opponents. All sitting around a deceptively cozy campfire, while a small, hooded figure stoked the flames with her Keyblade and suppressed shudders and sobs at the idea of being forced to hurt her friends again.

And in Twilight Town, Lea perched on the edge of the clock tower, watching his melting sea-salt ice creams drip off their sticks. He reeled from his interaction with Isa, replaying their conversation over and over in his head. Or was it still Saix? Oh hell, he didn't know. There were moments, like the touch of dry humor quirking his lips and the soft, rather serene glow of his eyes, that had been very reminiscent of his childhood friend Isa. But, in contrast, there were also the callous jabs from someone going full asshole that were undoubtedly Saix. So, which version of the guy had he just finished talking to? What did it matter? Why should he care about _any _of this? They weren't even friends these days!

Right?

Lea sighed, shaking his head. Just when he'd thought he had finally shaken off Isa, here he came again like they hadn't been communicating like two particularly hostile junkyard dogs for the past couple of years. Didn't he know that there was going to be a battle tomorrow, after which one of them would probably never see the other again? And oh, there was the off-chance that there was some unspoken…_thing_…that was just going to have to remain unresolved.

Loathe as he was to waste ice cream, Lea bitterly threw one of the melting sticks down, not even caring if it landed on someone's head. He suffered from a ruined appetite, and certainly, his stomach wouldn't hold room for two ice creams. Nonetheless, he started licking at the one stick remaining, trying to salvage what he could from this agonizing day. And luckily, it could still be saved. The town was as beautiful as always, filled with the chirping of songbirds and the idle, pleasant chatter of people with far less drama going on in their lives. The warmth of the setting sun touched his face, bringing him some measure of peace as he closed his eyes and tried to shunt the very real possibility of potentially killing his former (with an asterisk) friend out of his mind. And daydream of happier times with Roxas and the girl he could almost recall, though her presence in his memories was nothing short of fuzzy.

By the time he was halfway finished with the ice cream, he could feel the gummiphone vibrating in one of his robe pockets. Setting the steadily melting stick aside, he answered it.

"Yeah?"

"How are you feeling?"

Ah, Kairi, his sparring partner in crime. Lea hadn't been sure if he wanted to talk to anyone after Isa, but if anyone could remedy his turbulent mood, it was her.

"In all honesty? Like shit," he admitted with self-deprecation, even cracking a shadow of his customary smirk.

She laughed on the other end. "Can't say I blame you. I can understand how you feel, considering this is going to be a big day tomorrow."

"Tell me about it, princess. But, uh, it's not just that." He started tapping his fingers against the edge of his perch. "I had a talk with an ex-friend, you might say. Or old friend, I don't know. It's complicated."

"Hm, so he's fighting on the other side, then? I knew there was a reason I called. I figured you needed someone to talk to."

The levels of emotional intelligence ESP on this girl could not be denied, something about her that Lea continued to be amazed by in their relatively brief acquaintance. It had to be a Princess of Heart quality, or maybe she was just that skilled at playing the nurturer who brought her friends comfort. Whatever it was, it drew all the emotions and words out of him as he launched into his story of what took place here earlier. He avoided saying Isa's name, either to protect him or himself, he did not know which. All he knew was that saying those two syllables into the ether was bound to make the ache in his chest that much sharper, as if a blade was being twisted into him.

When he finally finished, out of breath and trying to blink back tears, Kairi took a few quiet moments to deliberate. That silence on the other end was going to drive him insane if she kept it up.

What she did say threw him for a loop regardless. "I think he wants a second chance with you."

"What?! Oh, you've got to be kiddi—"

"Settle down," she laughed. "Listen to me. Opportunities like this don't present themselves every day. He wouldn't seek you out if he didn't want you back in his life. And, if I had to take a wild guess, he's working to make sure that whatever bridge got burnt between you two is going to get rebuilt. Don't take that for granted."

Lea shook his head in disbelief, although Kairi would not be able to see it. "And what makes you the authority on forgiveness?"

"Let's just say I know from personal experience." He could hear a wry smile in her voice. "If this friend really cares about you—and I suspect he does—and shows he's willing to prove that you can trust him again, give him that second chance. That's all I'm saying."

"Yeah. Sure. I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Kairi."

"Any time. See you on the field tomorrow?"

He let out a breathy chuckle. "Heh, yeah, let's see if we can keep up with the big boys, huh?"

"Definitely!"

As he stuffed his phone back into his pocket after the call, Lea spared one last glance at the twilight he might not see again for a while. And he, for the first time since his reversion back to Lea, mulled over his time in the Organization and the lessons learned. He thought of the former members, most of whom he hadn't seen since his rebellion, and the various paths they had all set out on since those days. How some had already returned to their old selves before their fall, working in Radiant Garden. How others had likely chosen to tie their fate with Xehanort's in the hopes that, once again, false promises would somehow be fulfilled. However, if Isa was one example, he wondered if these individuals (even, dare he say it,_ Xemnas_) operated more in shades of gray for the time being, for survival's sake. He thought that maybe the light of redemption could still show them a different path, one that branched out away from Xehanort.

And he thought about second chances.

* * *

**A/N: I think I've worn myself out mentally already just agonizing and polishing this fic all day, between chapter one and then the prologue I went ahead and added, as I wasn't sure I initially wanted one. However, I'm decently satisfied with my efforts. I hope I can be, considering I was being painstaking over 5 Word Doc pages for two hours, heh!**

**Some notes: **

**I might be hitting the theme a bit over in the head, but I think a good prologue should at least be a decent set-up for the core theme of the story. That and me desperately trying to tie this in with Chapter 1. Another thing, yeah, in case it isn't obvious, I am most definitely planting the seeds for a Lea/Isa ship! There'll be another couple or two, but this will probably be the main one. However, there's another reason I started with Lea, since he as Axel was one of the first characters to rebel against the Org. and the one with the major redemption arc in 2. So, I wanted to call back to that by having strictly his POV in the prologue. That and I didn't want to juggle around so many characters right off the bat, it is just a taste after all, not the whole fic.**

**I loved the Axel and Kairi interactions in 3 and don't think there were quite enough of them, so I wanted to throw in another one. I think they have a good sibling-like rapport going on and wanted to touch on that further.**

**OK, you might have caught me with the GotG 2 inspiration with the "unspoken thing" as a phrase! I latched onto that when I watched the movie for the first time a couple years ago, and it's stuck with me whenever I think about unresolved sexual tension in...really about anything.**

**With all that out of the way, I'm leaning more towards putting Chapter 1 out tomorrow (no thanks to me having to get up EARLY for work...). And...that's all I got so far as far as stuff being written down/typed out. But, I will def. do my damndest to see this to completion, especially since I always wanted to do this kind of fic with the Org. anyway.**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey again, guys! I decided to go ahead and put out the first chapter here, since I already completed it yesterday. So, definitely an exception if not the rule when it comes to story updates for this one. This chapter might feel a bit on the wish fulfillment side in terms of things I wanted to happen in KH3, but I couldn't help myself, for one! For another, I did include this for a reason...This will probably be the only chapter to feature an entire rewrite/restructuring of a boss fight-really, any moment-from the actual game. I'm also going to get a little metaphysical here, so be ready for that!**

**Hope you enjoy. Also, sidenote, I just watched Endgame earlier this afternoon! Still have not recovered.**

* * *

_I am colorblind_

_Coffee black and egg white_

_Pull me out from inside_

_I am ready, I am ready, I am ready,_

_I am fine_

_-_"Colorblind", Counting Crows

* * *

**Chapter 1: Xemnas**

The sun was less than an hour away from setting on the Keyblade Graveyard when Xemnas observed the Keyblade wielder running toward him. As the last dying rays of light fell, the minor Heartless were only getting stronger, something the Keyblade wielder (or perhaps, with so many apparently possessing the weapon, he could just be called "Sora", Xemnas thought with scorn) clearly struggled with. Eventually, he wiped out the remaining Heartless in his way until it was just his old foe standing ready for a proper fight.

So, this was how it was to be fated. Another face-off with this boy. Xemnas wondered how much more he had learned since their last fateful encounter.

However, before Sora could raise his Keyblade against him, three even more familiar rivals showed themselves. On the one hand, Xemnas knew better than to be surprised at the intrusion on what should have been a duel. On the other, he had not expected these pitiful fools to recover enough to deal with the likes of him. After all, wasn't Saix supposed to have taken care of them? But, perhaps Saix…But, no, surely, he wouldn't have—couldn't have—lost.

Roxas laid a hand on Sora's shoulder. "Don't worry about Xemnas. We'll take care of him."

Xion nodded with him in agreement before looking pointedly at their former Superior. "Besides, Sora, you could use the rest. This is our fight."

"But, we'll call you for back-up if we need it," Lea drawled, ruffling up Sora's hair. "Granted, we won't be compelled to, but you know. If it gets too intense out there, it'll be nice to have the extra pair of hands."

Another surprise for Xemnas, close enough to listen in on the conversation, was that Sora took sitting out on his potential moment of glory rather well. He even smiled and let out a little laugh though weary.

"No problem, guys! He's all yours. Good luck."

"Luck?" Lea mock scoffed. "We won't need it."

"Let's hope not anyway," Roxas replied wryly.

They all gave Sora encouraging smiles as he took his steps away from the field of battle and gradually sat down for his respite. Of course, the smiles disappeared when they approached Xemnas, Roxas and Xion holding their weapons at the ready. And Lea, though weaponless, strode just as determinedly as his compatriots. As if they thought they had the slightest chance of defeating him. The boy would have been a better match—or, rather, a better _rematch _worth his time.

But, then, Xemnas put an end to that disdainful line of thinking…He could exploit this. Perhaps this would provide an opportunity equal parts challenging and entertaining. A sort of battle royal between him and three of the most outspoken traitors to his Organization. He met their hard gazes evenly, still quietly assessing the situation. If he could take out Lea, the clear weakest, first, then everything else would fall into place. Although with their Keyblades, both Roxas and Xion could pose as valid threats, he hoped eliminating their surrogate big brother (of a sort, he supposed) would greatly dispirit them. Roxas could still be the most difficult, with those dual Keyblades currently gleaming in the last throes of twilight…But, he would fall, too. They all needed to, as just punishment for offending every one of his sensibilities. For daring to go against the greater good.

"I had anticipated another challenge from young Sora," he finally spoke, "but you three will have to do, I presume. Doubtless in your eagerness for vengeance against me, you simply fled from your battle with Saix."

A hint of what could be considered relish washed over Xemnas as he saw the obvious pained expression across Lea's face at the mere mention of his former friend; whereas Roxas and Xion's faces only darkened with rage.

Xion, through gritted teeth, retorted, "Gloat all you want, Xemnas, but we already dealt with him."

He allowed himself the indulgence of closing his eyes and letting out an angry hiss at this loss. Why would this even perturb him? He should have known that that would be the outcome. He was well aware of the history his former second-in-command once shared with Lea, but he had erroneously assumed that alliance was firmly in the past. There was no way he would dwell on the possibility that, in a moment of weakness, Saix decisively let these three win out of some delusional need for _redemption_.

"No matter," he continued, though his amber eyes glowered at them all. "None of you will be able to match me in strength. Saix may have been lenient, but you will not find the same mercy from me."

It was then that he allowed his laser swords to materialize as he directed his gaze toward Lea specifically. "And you, Axel…or is it Lea?"—he sneered with a curl of his lip—"I distinctly recall destroying your facsimile of a Keyblade not even an hour ago. Unless you plan on fighting me with your bare hands…In which case, you are making a grave and foolish error indeed. It would have been better for you if you had stayed behind."

"Not a chance." Lea snorted. "And funny that you mention my Keyblade because…well…"

He stuck his hand out in front of him, closed his eyes, and a slightly different variant of Keyblade formed in front of him. It was somewhat longer than some of the other ones, black from blade to hilt, with the exception of special features that Xemnas noticed in an instant: two smaller versions of the red and silver chakrams that the redhead used to be so infamous for wielding.

"I always carry a spare, lucky for me." Lea smirked.

His friends were similarly dazzled but were quick to recover with beaming smiles his direction.

Xemnas only stepped closer, laser swords pulsing with energy. "So it would appear. However, by the time we finish here today, you will all share the same fate."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Roxas retorted.

The three Keyblade wielders exchanged reassuring glances, checking amongst themselves to see if they felt ready. And then, with each of them giving some form of battle cry, they charged at him.

Without missing a beat, Xemnas extended out his swords to block Roxas' and Xion's attacks and phasing out before Lea could deal a blow of his own. He reappeared a few feet away, suspending himself in mid-air, and issued multiple dark balls of electricity at a continuous rate. Xion, Roxas, and Lea dodged and blocked accordingly, with a couple orbs bouncing off Keyblades and striking Xemnas, who kept phasing in and out of his foes' view. If he could confuse them in this manner, he would have them ensnared in no time. As it stood, he indeed took a few hits here and there but nothing that he couldn't handle. He would opt for a different approach in the form of lasers. So, while the three of them kept blocking and turning in all directions to keep him in sight, he circled around them with his lasers. All at once, they zeroed in on them, resulting in their receiving nasty shocks. They stumbled and fell yet recovered just as quickly.

Indeed, Roxas was the first to rebound and hurled Oblivion straight at Xemnas, who threw out another orb to block. Similar to a boomerang, the Keyblade faithfully returned to its owner in a flash.

In the meantime, Xion rolled over under Xemnas and impulsively struck her Kingdom Key toward his shoulder, where the blade momentarily embedded. Growling, he ripped the blade away, darkness bleeding out from the wound, and phased yet again to another location. He created a particularly massive electric ball with both hands and sent it out Xion's direction. As she tried to readjust her focus, she was almost too late in turning around. She let out an angry, frightened cry as she lifted her Keyblade in a last-ditch effort…only for Lea and Roxas to impede the orb just in the nick of time.

"Oh jeez, thanks, guys," she told them. "That was too close that time!"

"No problem!" Roxas smiled. "Want to try for a two-on-one?"

Before Xion could respond, Xemnas dropped in with his laser swords for a devastating maneuver. Xion and Roxas blocked in time but barely. As it was, they were beginning to sustain minor cuts and bruises. Together, they threw themselves into hitting wherever there was an opening (not that Xemnas would offer too many chances), engaging in a strange sort of uneven duel.

"Guess we didn't have much choice," Xion remarked to Roxas, maintaining her focus on the attempted stabs.

"We're going to get nowhere like this." He offered a Keyblade in response. "I got an idea! Get on this."

"Uh…"

"Just do it! Fast!"

Xion leapt up on Oathkeeper and proceeded to be launched far above Xemnas' head. He glanced upward and estimated where he could phase in order to avoid brutal damage. With a wave of his hand, he guided more lasers to surround her before phasing out above her, laser swords drawn.

"Reflect, Xion! Now!" Roxas barked out the order.

With her Keyblade extended, Xion created a reflective barrier around her as the lasers and Xemnas hurtled toward her. The lasers dropped while he bounced off the barrier, grunting in response. Somehow, their magic abilities had improved as well. Or perhaps he had never paid attention to their progress on missions.

Well, two could play at this game.

He phased in and out again, shouting, "Guard!" behind Xion, who was already on the way down. She gave out a little scream from surprise but not before swiftly striking Xemnas when his temporary shield vanished. She landed on the ground without any further injury.

If embarrassment could be keener to someone like him, he would have felt it then and there. He made his descent gracefully enough but still found himself staggering back from the blow to his abdomen. Either he himself had grown rusty from not engaging in battle for some time (unlikely), or he had severely underestimated these three and their cursed stubbornness. If he didn't tap into his powerful resources of energy soon, then he would be as good as finished.

He dared not linger on the thought too long that he had been holding back in the hopes that they would surrender. And yet, he had done exactly that. Too arrogant. Too careless. All of this hit home to him as he felt the first beads of perspiration slide down his face.

Xemnas recovered enough to start throwing everything he could into his attacks: dark electric orbs, lasers, and himself with his swords. He would send out orbs in waves of four while the traitors scrambled as to their next objectives. Feeling the full force behind him at one fateful moment, he shot a line of dark energy toward Roxas, who used both Keyblades to block. Yet, the line only strengthened as Xemnas leaned into it, making the boy stagger backwards. But, Roxas would not relent and had only moved a little, he noted. The rage in his blue eyes was apparent, the rebellious fire never extinguishing even as he sank under the pressure of this prolonged attack.

Now, just another volt of dark electricity, and he would be the first to kneel.

"You were nothing, you're still nothing, and you will forever be nothing," Xemnas proclaimed to the clearly tiring wielder, who only gritted his teeth in response. "Now go back to the empty vacuum from whence you came!"

In the exact second he unleashed more dark electricity, he heard an, "I don't think so!" before the attack rebounded on itself and hit Xemnas hard. He was propelled back several feet before coming to rest on his back. How could this be?

He let a disgusted sneer play at his lips as he lifted himself up on his elbows, watching as the dust clouds settled. Xion and Lea stood triumphantly before the latter charged as soon as Xemnas was able to rise to his feet. They clashed with their swords initially, Xemnas wisely choosing not to bank on the dark energy that had ultimately worked against him. Lea had yet to be a master swordsman—that much was apparent—but what he lacked in technical skill, he more than made up for in spiritedness. He found himself ducking and dodging at certain points, though he would be damned to bend to the weak link.

That was, of course, before Lea abruptly held up one hand and cleared his throat.

Xemnas paused in mid-hover, his swords still drawn. "What is this nonsense? Would you surrender to me so easily?"

Lea smirked, though an intense rage burned in his eyes as well. "Now, we both know that you know me too well for that to happen. I just…ah…need a moment."

And with a flourish, his Keyblade split into recognizable chakrams.

Xemnas kept his composure, though he sensed his eyes widen nonetheless. How could one's Keyblade possess multiple properties like this? This was not to be borne!

With him spinning his now dual weapons with flair, Lea held up the burning chakrams so his rival could get a good look at them. "Remember these?"

Of course he did—he could vividly recall the way the redhead spun them by way of showing off before going in for a merciless kill. However, he refused to humor him and only struck back with his own dual blades. "For all the amount of good those will do you…You always were one of the weakest."

"Aw, and here I thought you liked me!" Lea retorted before turning slightly and giving Xemnas a vicious slash, which was promptly blocked.

And then both men proceeded to launch themselves into a furious duel.

Roxas and Xion had fallen back to watch, partially out of weariness and partially out of consideration toward their friend. They must have been well-aware of Lea's long-standing urge to face Xemnas one-on-one.

_Fools._ He allowed himself a smirk while blocking the long-range fire attacks. _This is all going according to plan._

They darted in and out of each other's attacks, often clashing with neither one of them ready to yield. While one lunged, the other dodged. There soon appeared to be an explosion of both flames and electricity on the battle field, so fierce were these attacks. It was almost difficult to make out Lea through all the smoke and dust from the arid desert ground, so Xemnas decided a change in tactic was in order. He cut through the veil of smoke and some of the flames until he forced his laser blades to once again hit the deadly sharp chakrams. And held that position. If he had his full range of emotions, he wondered if perhaps he would gain the distinct pleasure of seeing the defiant light dissipate from Lea's eyes. Oh, this tricky one had always been quite the renegade. All talk but, as far as Xemnas saw it, little to no follow-through.

"_Now_ will you share your last words?" he asked, one sword hand extending toward his opponent's skinny neck.

Lea glared, all fun and joking gone. "Why give you the satisfaction?"

"As I thought…," he mused aloud, before swinging both swords threateningly by way of emphasis. "It matters not. Those words will prove irrelevant if you lack both the thoughts and the tongue to utter them."

The two men reverted to their previous positions, gauging each other's moves and counterattacking decisively when seeing the need. Lea created a straight line of flames that only piled higher and burned hotter in front of Xemnas. The latter phased out but only just, still having to (albeit casually) diffuse what few sparks ignited on his cloak. He was just now starting to sense his hitherto unflagging strength and energy draining away from him—he, the most powerful Nobody across all the worlds. He would not let this stand as he, in one bold, last-ditch effort, set the field in shadow. At this point, the sun had completely set, giving him the advantage. It was now or never, victory or failure. With a wave of his hand, honing his focus in on this soft-hearted, foolish troublemaker, Xemnas once again lifted Lea off his feet. And, with his other mighty hand, he made his lasers strike his target repeatedly.

"We. Are not. Doing this. Again," the redhead gritted out, fighting the imposed stillness even as the lasers hit.

And then, in a crushing turn of events, these moments happened in quick succession: Lea threw down a single burning chakram, Roxas and Xion deflected the shower of lasers on their ascension, and he was sent hurtling toward the ground.

No…He could not…He refused to be defeated, not when he had been so damn close…

Yet, he was now beset by all three, as good as beaten. Roxas grabbed him by his silver hair and maintained a not-so-gentle grip on his head, while Xion as firmly pinned his arms behind him. Both Oathkeeper and Xion's replica Kingdom Key rested against his neck.

Meanwhile, Lea joined his chakrams into a single Keyblade once again as he strode purposefully toward the man who had tried exacting his loyalty. No amused light was in his eyes or even a quirk of a cocky smile on his lips. Rather, a cold look had settled upon his features, and his eyes were glazed over as if in deliberation. An expression that Xemnas was relatively unfamiliar with, yet he could surmise that surely, this was the same look Lea once wore as Axel shortly before dispatching past Organization members.

He only raised a brow at him, as if asking for his own last words.

Xemnas shook his head (or as close as he could get) as response, withholding his thoughts and intentions from the others until the bitter end.

And then Lea raised his Bond of Flame, teal eyes blazing.

"This is from Isa and me."

He plunged the Keyblade straight into Xemnas' chest. Thus, the former Flurry of Dancing Flames sent his most powerful opponent to his end while committing his most significant act of treason.

The shock of the blade piercing him was somehow more poignant than the pain, of which Xemnas was only acutely aware. Instead, he glanced ponderously down at his hands once Xion and Roxas released him. These hands that had demanded unbending loyalty from those he'd called inferiors. These hands that could virtually shape anything to his will. Hands that would no longer hold weapons of any kind.

He could only sigh in a kind of resigned self-deprecation. "Bested…yet again…"

Sora had joined his friends and allies at that point, the only one of the four looking at him with any sort of compassion. A compassion that Xemnas was cool and logical enough to know that he had not earned…had _never _earned.

"You said it yourself once…that you always had part of your heart. Well, you have all of it now, right? Was all this worth it? What do you feel?" he asked, though it was more of a barrage of questions fired off.

Such was this young boy's energy. Such was his curious nature. Xemnas tended to look favorably on these traits in others. In the past, he could weaponize them.

Indeed, an intriguing, thoughtful question that Sora had posed. Was all of this conflict, these divisions, worth it? It had been so easy to answer some time ago. Yet, now at the end of all things and at the trailing edge of a wretched life gone to waste, Xemnas was more skeptical. As more streams of darkness coursed from the hole in his chest, he began to feel a strange lightness, almost as if a great weight had finally been shoved off. Then, he winced as the first throes of genuine emotional pain swept through him upon the realization that yes, he had squandered what life he had.

Always standing in the shadows, he had allowed himself to be defined by someone or something else, whether that was Xehanort or Kingdom Hearts itself.

He stared directly at the four young people, who still had so much ahead of them. "I feel…the emptiness of where my companions stood. I took them for granted."

"That's putting it lightly," Roxas scoffed, though Xion placed a hand on his arm as if to keep him from going too far in his words. While her expression remained as fierce as her best friends', she nonetheless had much sorrow in her eyes. She seemed to understand a little of where he was coming from.

Xemnas breathed out another shaky sigh, more darkness seeping out. "Especially you three. I cannot ask clemency of those who I have most egregiously offended. I placed divisions amongst all of you in the Organization as a means toward my own ends. A folly I shall not live to repeat now…now that I have nothing." He stretched his arms across the wide expanse of desert, further emphasizing this. "Fitting, I suppose, for one so blindly seeking power."

"Excuse us for not feeling very sorry right now," Xion said shortly even as her eyes looked even sadder, on the verge of tears. "You treated us like dirt and manipulated me so much. How are we supposed to know whether or not you're pulling an act?"

The grief he had bestowed upon these former members—and the ones not present on this field—resonated within him a thousandfold. He himself couldn't say for certain who he was trying to convince with this dying spiel.

"Because…I have nothing left to lose." Another shudder of this foreign melancholy overtook him as he turned slightly away from them. "My first surge of emotion in years…for as long as I can remember…and it's loneliness…Do you see? A heart is just pain."

Lea scratched the back of his head, the stony glare he'd been maintaining fading from his face. "I mean, sure…But, it's worth it, because it means you actually care about things. And that you have the capacity to love…"

Lea's eyes held a more faraway look to them as he spoke, as if not quite here on this former field of battle.

Clearly, there had been more to Lea's relationship with Saix than even he could have suspected in those days. Xemnas still faced the vast, empty expanse of the graveyard, not giving concern to such petty matters. So what if pain meant love in some skewed way? And there would be nothing to care about, not where he was headed next. Thank Kingdom Hearts for it, he supposed.

"Pain…is being human, Xemnas."

He finally turned around at these words from the Keyblade wielder, glancing back to see him pointedly resting a hand against his chest.

To be human…Such a fate might remain an impossibility to him, for all the sins he'd committed. Some naïve voice that he didn't recognize within him still insisted that humanity would be a great opportunity to begin again, should fate work in his favor. The fact that he could identify loneliness and grief ought to serve as proof enough. The man from three years ago, five years ago, ten years…It was not the same man he felt he was now, as he began fading in earnest. Xemnas knew that he had to let go, as much as he was reluctant to greet whatever lay on the other side, for his own sake. Besides, hadn't he morbidly been basking in this feeling for the last few minutes? The sense of being lighter, no longer tied to who he was defined by, his schemes, and even his formerly sore muscles from the battle of his paradoxical non-existence. If this was what slipping away truly felt like, he could imagine himself embracing it.

And this hopelessly optimistic boy was right, at least according to his own philosophy. Even so, the wisdom he conveyed through those simple words impacted him as if it had come down through the ages, from the ancient Keyblade wielders who were.

Xemnas couldn't suppress a smile. "Really? Then it must take…incredible strength."

And lighter now…Lighter…Lighter still…

He floated—he did not know in what direction initially—as he still fixed his gaze on that small assembled group. Sora was the first to leave, aiming to join Riku, Kairi, and the king who all still battled Ansem the Seeker of Darkness some yards away. Xion walked alongside him, though stalled to furiously wipe at her eyes. Literally detached from both people and earth, he came to realize just how much agony he had put this girl through. For, it was no question now that she had become her own person and perhaps was never the puppet he'd once dubbed her.

They had all achieved the one goal he'd so desired for himself—the irony that he too failed in this effort among many others was not lost on him.

Sora offered a comforting hand to Xion, who gently shook it off and continued on her way, her face taking on a clear resolve. Roxas was next to leave the cliffside, only giving a stiff nod as if to acknowledge that this was indeed a fitting end to someone once proud in his so-called lack of true emotions. Xemnas knew Roxas was a hardened individual for one so young, quick to anger when wronged and consequently slow to forgive. However, if he was anything like his counterpart Sora, he would forgive all of these horrible transgressions eventually. It would take some time, of course, and there was still a chance he would never be forgiven. And Xemnas could now accept that, too. Again, what choice did he have, since he no longer had an anchor to any world?

Lea lingered the longest, gazing at the very spot his former "Superior" had faded as well as out over the horizon. Although his face was initially unreadable, he soon clenched his hands into fists and tried to tamp down what looked to be sobs. He too had been through so much at the hands of Xemnas and the sins committed out of blind self-absorption. Logic told him that not only was Lea still grappling with these memories of being alone for so long but mourning the loss of a very dear friend's presence as well.

Roxas clapped a hand on his best friend's shoulder, causing him to relax with a wry smile.

"Lucky bastard"—for Xemnas' spirit lingered long enough to be in close proximity to these words—"He gets his humanity back _and then _doesn't get to deal with any of the consequences. Sure. Sounds fair."

Roxas pointed out, "But, you heard him. He's got nothing now. No home. No friends. All he does have is a heart that finally feels the emptiness of those things. That's a fate worse than death, if you ask me."

"Yeah…" Lea looked back out over the horizon as the moon started to rise. "You're right, Rox. Guess we're the lucky ones. It's funny…He put us through more pain than anyone should go through, but I'm not even mad any more. Maybe because he finally learned something from all this. Maybe he's got a fair shot."

And with the patting of a somewhat confused Roxas' shoulder, Lea wandered off toward the next objective as well, even beginning to whistle as if ready and eager for anything. So, now, they had all gone from the site of his fading, each person dealing with the vacancy in their own way. He himself would be the last to call it a loss, which would have defeated the purpose of his non-existence.

He had once demanded compliance without love, for what need had he of that useless emotion? Didn't it make one weak? However, upon his most recent revelation, he could look to these young people who were solely motivated by love: love for their homes, love for their friends and families, and love for each other. Perhaps he had been the weak one all this time, something he wouldn't have cared to admit to himself all those years ago. Or even as recently as a few days ago, when Xehanort was rounding them all up like soldiers out on a fruitless crusade to further his own vile agenda. He hadn't stopped to consider that he had been reduced to a pawn—he'd only sought revenge.

Regardless, when under Kingdom Hearts' influence, perhaps they were all mere pawns in the end. How they lived or died made no difference to it.

At last surrendering to the inevitable, Xemnas felt his spirit being tugged upwards, guided only by the notion that total darkness waited for him. There would be no Final World, which legends described as being full of pure light and for those on the brink of reemergence or eternal sleep. There would be no chorus of angels to welcome him but no horned demons touting pitchforks either. He would never encounter his former comrades-in-arms again, or at the very least, he doubted it. Only nothingness, the loneliest fate of hanging in limbo day in, day out, if days were measured there. What a short-sighted, arrogant fool he had been to proclaim too early that Roxas would return to an empty vacuum. Oh, irony of ironies that same vacuum would pull him inwards instead, where time and space served no function.

Kingdom Hearts absorbed him, and with his final coherent thoughts, Xemnas mused that it was oddly comforting to be a part of it instead of staring longingly at it from a distance. As he had done, ever since he'd started his Nobody life, so long ago…

* * *

Fate, fickle mistress that it could often be, had other plans for the once prideful leader of Organization XIII. And it all started with simple rays of light. Before then, Xemnas had grown to become well-acquainted with the complete darkness that enveloped him. It was not something malevolent that surrounded him but, rather, a neutral, almost calming presence that brought him the inner peace so long denied him. Perhaps not some grand, flowery idyll as far as afterlives went, but it was more the equivalent to an enduring sleep in which he could languish forever. Considering how much energy he had expended, whether through strategizing or battling, Xemnas did not mind this. On the contrary, he embraced this state of flux in spite of the tedium. This rest was surely more than he deserved.

When the first few rays began to break through the perpetual darkness, he was confused. Was there some outside force summoning him back? Or would his spirit be well and truly dissolved, swallowed by the light?

Then, a mysterious voice spoke to him. _You have done much harm to others. That much remains unchanged. However…you have also sought an ordinary life in which you can live independently of the other selves you were tied to._

Although he hadn't a physical voice with which to verbalize anything, Xemnas had a plethora of questions.

The loudest question he could only think. _Then, what will be my purpose?_

The mysterious voice was quick to respond. _To live as you see fit. But, be forewarned…This is your one and only reprieve. Should you revert to wickedness and cruelty toward others, you will cease to exist._

Of course there would be a caveat. Wasn't there always? However, he found that, in spite of it being an entity, the voice was far more trustworthy than Xehanort had ever been. Yes, Xehanort, a Keyblade Master but also a weaver of fantasies and a spinner of lies. In selling the appeal of the Real Organization XIII to him and the others, he had promised them Keyblades, immense riches, seats of power…and, after a point (to be sure), absolute freedom once they'd finished doing his bidding. Naturally, there had been a caveat too, in that instance: disobey him, and he would cast them into darkness forever.

He was not without fault—he had wrought so much pain and chaos under this despot's rule. What else could he say, now that this chance had been thrust before him other than…?

_I understand._

The rays soon expanded until nothing but light washed over him, the shadows retreating until they vanished. Then, Xemnas felt as though he was falling, the law of gravity intervening where no natural law had before, pulling him down toward a destination yet unknown to him. It was as though he had transformed into a shooting star, sailing across the sky before the crash. Now, instead of experiencing the sense of lightness, he had taken on some earthly weight, or so it seemed.

Falling…Plummeting faster than he could estimate the speed, wondering if Kingdom Hearts (if that was what spoke to him) had played a sick joke and meant to kill him again…The clouds as well as the soaring birds came into being first. Next, rocky outcroppings that met the horizon…And finally, the ground seemed to rise up to meet him, so rapidly he'd been falling.

When he regained consciousness, Xemnas glanced down at his hands, which almost startled him. He couldn't explain how, and maybe there were some mystical enigmas of the worlds that could never be solved. All he knew was that he had been restored to his original body. Awestruck, he stared at his hands for some moments, flexing his fingers and clenching them into fists. He couldn't help but appreciate how he could move, breathe, and be able to look at corporeal things as viscerally as he had before. In spite of his old robes that, if seen, would make other people look askance, he deemed that this would be a new, proper beginning. He had been given this gift, told not to waste it, and he certainly didn't intend to throw away one second.

Xemnas felt a smile threatening his lips as he took in his surroundings of the stark blue cliffsides and the vast expanse of flat land on which he now stood. His smile faded as soon as it had come…Yes, he remembered this place that he once knew as Hollow Bastion. It may have been restored to its proper state as Radiant Garden, but he was not naïve. There were still these specific locations that had remained unchanged, even if the city itself had. He stood not far from where he had stood on a jagged outcropping not so long ago, surveying territory he meant to claim as his own while watching a certain Keyblade wielder slay a thousand Heartless.

That voice had been correct in reminding him that his past could not be altered in order to hide the man he was. Memories of that time were already making themselves known, coalescing like thunderheads before a rain storm. Of course, that wasn't to say he couldn't create new memories, ones far less concerned with world domination. It was strange, feeling so rejuvenated yet not knowing what to actually do, especially in terms of engaging in more selfless acts. Was he capable of making good on his silent promise to the mysterious voice? Could he be of real use to people without feeling the urge to twist and mold them into what he wanted?

He held his hands out in front of him again, skimming over them with a thoughtful gaze. Ordinary life, he supposed, always meant more questions than answers, if being back here was anything to go by thus far.

"Hey! Were _you_ the meteor?"

So, he had looked to be a shooting star, after all. Peering through his strands of silver hair, he saw that the voice belonged to a petite young woman with short black hair. She appeared to be in traditional ninja garb, complete with sash tied around her forehead and a shuriken strapped to her back. With some amusement, he noticed that she'd placed one hand to her weapon already, as if on reflex. He couldn't say that he blamed her instincts.

With another small smile that still felt so alien to him, Xemnas meant to come off as disarming. "In a manner of speaking, yes. I was brought to this world, but I do not quite know by what or whom."

"OK. Weird…" Keeping her hand on her weapon, she approached him with a face both suspicious and concerned. "Well, are you OK? Because you left quite a mark there."

She gestured behind him, where there was upturned earth where he must have crashed then slid. Indeed, he hadn't realized that even this spot had an imprint somewhat shaped like him.

"Yes…surprisingly."

The woman's lips twitched as if to keep from laughing. "No kidding! You should be dead right now."

She had no idea.

"I think I know who you are," she continued, her eyes narrowing, even while she maintained a light, friendly tone of voice. "But…what's your name?"

The value of a name, whether a true one or one a Nobody got saddled with when well-acquainted with the darkness. Yet, what else could he go by?

He let out a short sigh, wondering what this decision would cost him. "Then, you have some memory of me then. Your suspicions are correct. I am Xemnas."

The woman tightened her grip on her shuriken, though she looked neither frightened nor angry, but merely alert. Gauging his next move in order to plan hers accordingly.

He lifted his hands, which could no longer draw his laser swords out of thin air. "It is the only name I know to go by. Otherwise…I do not intend to cause any more harm."

Was this _only _because the voice held him in thrall with its warning? Or was he somehow urged to do better? He could not say.

"And that's supposed to make me feel better…how, exactly?" the woman asked, even as she relaxed the hold she had on her massive weapon.

A pang akin to what he would call sorrow (another emotion he didn't usually tap into) stung him then as he truly looked at this woman. She was likely a bit older, but with her question and appearance, she reminded him of Xion. Every trivial thing was going to call to mind a moment where he had acted like a tyrant, wasn't it? Was this second chance meant to be a curse rather than a blessing then?

"_Pain…is being human, Xemnas."_

Indeed, it would have to be a daily reminder he'd learn to cope with.

"It's not, if I must be honest," he admitted, dropping his hands with another smile. "Perhaps it is consolation only to me. All I know is that everything seemed so hollow in the past…and that I intend to provide a more meaningful future for myself."

"Eh." The woman shrugged. "That's definitely a better answer. Not great but, you know, you haven't killed me. So, I'll take that as a sign of good faith…for now!"

She seemed much more chipper as she closed the remaining distance between them, hand extended. "In that case, my name's Yuffie. There's going to be quite a few people back in town interested in you showing up."

He couldn't say that this was news that shocked him.

"I have no doubt," he replied, cautiously extending his hand in kind.

They shook hands. And it occurred to him that this was the first time—perhaps ever—that he used a gesture in welcoming and not as a threat.

* * *

**A/N: Don't worry, I don't intend to make Yuffie/Xemnas a thing...that would be kind of icky tbh. _**

**Some of my thoughts in writing this chapter:**

**I had some minor disappointments in 3, but probably none greater than Lea having some great lines toward Xemnas...and then not having a real Crowning Moment of Badass imo. I would have thought it would make more sense for him to achieve something on, say, Roxas' level of badassery, considering his character arc from CoM onwards. But, nope. And also, the switch in Keyblades is admittedly an aesthetic choice on my part-I do kinda think his flame Keyblade is kind of corny-looking, and the Bond of Flame from KH2 looks way cooler. All in all, I just wanted to make Lea more than just comic relief...He felt a bit like a flanderization in the game tbh, even with all the great character moments Nomura still managed to give him.**

**Also, why couldn't the Sea Salt Trio have taken Xemnas on? Why did Sora have to fight everyone's battles for them? Another thing that admittedly bugged me about 3. So, yep, I wanted to "fix" that, too!**

**No Kairi getting kidnapped (again...) in MY story. :P**

**And I could yammer on about other details, but I really want to address Xemnas himself. I wanted to make a simple gesture like the one at the end of this chapter feel like the big deal it is...simply because I think it's best to start small with the idea of Xemnas getting redeemed. Theoretically, if we're going strictly by canon, he is well and truly done. However, this is more to answer a "what if" on my end on how he would be worthy of redemption. His last speech did hold some potential, and it's honestly one of my favorite moments in the whole game's story. I'll admit, he is a complex character, especially in terms of making him even remotely decent considering how much crap he pulled on everyone. I kept Xehanort full-stop evil without redemption, though, so I guess that's one thing!**

**Hope you enjoyed this. Next chapter will focus on Xigbar/Braig, as I'll be doing this in order of ranks. Talk about complex characters...ha! **


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, guys, I am genuinely sorry for the FOUR-MONTH wait between chapters! Work has kicked my ass to the curb this summer, a large part due to another competitor closing temporarily for renovations. Gotta love retail. :P Then, my old computer was on its last legs anyway, so now I'm bringing this to you through a new computer. And yeah...Anyway, here's a 21K chapter to make up for it, lol.**

**So, I'll try to keep this short, but this is where I go completely divergent from canon. I actually liked the twist with Xigbar/Braig at the end of 3, in terms of how interesting that scene was...Buuut, I can't lie and say I wasn't a bit disappointed, mainly because I always had a completely different idea (or, inkling, rather) of what I thought the character's backstory was. In spirit of that, I wound up inventing a whole new backstory that even I was surprised how much effort I put into it. To the point that, yes, I'm devoting TWO chapters to good ole Braig here! I think we can agree, though, that if there's any character who deserves two chapters, it's probably him. Hope you all enjoy my spin-I should also note it's partly inspired by A Second Twilight by BlackJacketsandPens, which I rec by the way. Main differences are she's short and sweet with it, and I'm, well, more detail-obsessed.**

**Today's song, I think, captures this lone gunslinger vibe that fits Xigbar/Braig perfectly. It's also one of my favorite songs of all time.**

**Warnings: cursing (b/c Braig and another character you'll meet are potty mouths), recreational drinking, implied sexual situations**

* * *

_Desperado,_

_Oh, you ain't gettin' no younger_

_Your pain and your hunger, they're drivin' you home_

_And freedom, oh freedom, well that's just some people talkin'_

_Your prison is walkin' through this world all alone_

-"Desperado", Linda Ronstadt (originally by the Eagles)

* * *

**Chapter 2: Braig: Before**

Within the Organization, in both its incarnations, Xigbar had always been the most enigmatic. Judging by his demeanor alone, the newer members would have disagreed, but that underestimation was a mistake on their parts. Indeed, he had quite enjoyed leading them—leading everyone—astray. Let them think he was an apathetic slacker along for the ride, with his casual "as if"'s and pretending he knew less than he actually did. That was the whole point. Although he'd resolved to be one of the very few members to go willingly along with the Real Organization XIII, his loyalty to Xehanort (whatever little there was) had died a long time ago…or perhaps had never existed at all.

However, he'd still held out hope, or whatever skewed version he had of it, that if he waited around long enough, he would be given the old man's weapon: the most ancient, powerful Keyblade in existence. There were a few little tricks he would have liked to have used it for, and he imagined keeping it for himself. Sure. What else was there to live for at this point? All these years alive, Xigbar had mastered the art of persuasion, knowing which buttons to push and what hints to drop to get all those poor fools to chew on like dogs desperate for any thrown bone.

Yet, even with all the predictability, he could still be surprised. He supposed he could even surprise himself…with just how _bored _he had become with playing people. With always staying one step ahead of seemingly everyone he ever met. Even until the lingering bitter end, when he fell in a grand show of a farewell, he couldn't resist making one last jab at those hero kids. Different kids, same naïve obliviousness. Unbeknownst to all of them, both Organization and Keyblade wielders alike, Xigbar had always been an independent agent, acting out of his own secret motivations. And they had stayed so deeply hidden as long as they had for a reason.

Simply put, this was all personal.

* * *

_Cirragia, the Age of Fairy Tales_

Many worlds, pinpricks of stars across the sky, dotted the universe long ago; many more than the number that existed by the time Xehanort rose to tyranny. It might have seemed strange to later generations, almost a fantasy, but all of these worlds co-existed peaceably. Light was blessed to all, while Darkness remained exiled to the furthest corners. It was still there, as darkness was then as now a part of human nature, but it hadn't caused widespread harm, at least not yet. And one star gleamed as brightly as the rest, perhaps brighter.

Cirragia, so named for its clear skies teeming with sprawling clouds on its renowned sunny days, was considered among the most beautiful of the worlds. Its reputation was not unearned, with its fair climate and clean air, boasting the best of nature. Roaring river valleys, precipitous, misty peaks, rolling green hills…There was much to be treasured. And in some respects, it was considered a more progressive world in that its people relied on ingenious methods of energy generation. Windmills and wind turbines alike could easily be seen from above as well as rooftop panels that absorbed the sun. The people tended to be kind and well-intentioned, so if so much as a minor conflict ever broke out, it was rare in this world's history (as with many of the worlds at the time). Although class differences unfortunately still existed, most of these denizens found honest work, whether it was through farming or mining the precious jewels hidden deep in the mountains. Occasionally, one could see the imposing ship hulls overhead belonging to factions of sky pirates, but even these merry bands meant little harm. Mischievous, yes, but not as bloodthirsty or malicious as what might otherwise have been assumed.

Generally, there was understood reciprocity among the relationships in Cirragia, so that in turn, its cities and villages only grew and prospered with time. One such town was Silverhurst, a major center of trade for miles around due to its location near the Emerald River. Its market days were famous for bringing together people of all walks to browse and barter the stalls in turns. In spite of this bustle, it somehow retained the pure, cozy atmosphere of a small town, ideal for families.

Here, Braig Keln was born and raised, the son of a blacksmith and the eldest of four (with two younger sisters and a younger brother). When his mother deemed him old enough to fend for himself as well as his siblings, she did what she could to boost the family income by taking on work as a barmaid. They may not have been the wealthiest family around, but if happiness could be measured, they were certainly quite rich in that. However, always aiming higher, Braig wanted to make sure his family was well taken care of for many years to come. He studied quite hard in school, though one wouldn't have thought him much capable. For he could also get up to his fair share of mischief with his school friends, pulling pranks and playing wild, imaginative games in the adjacent woods. The same woods where he also learned to hunt (and developed quite a keen marksman's eye), forage, and, yes, even kiss a girl. Many times, he would return to this place of refuge, almost neglecting his chores and studies.

But, not quite, for Braig's ambition could not be denied. He was as erudite and curious as he was adventurous, spending as much time with books as he did with nature. From an early age, it was clear that he could charm both his peers and elders alike, rising to the role of natural leader amongst his schoolmates. When he chose to, he could lead more responsible endeavors—such as putting a stop to the occasional bully—as well as being a mastermind of light-hearted japes (usually at teachers' expense). With a customary sly grin and a wink, he could win almost anyone over, no matter what doubts they might have had.

So, it wasn't so surprising to the townspeople when he went on to attend university. Even less surprising that he soon made politics and history major points of study. He already had some ideas of making Silverhurst an even better place than it already was, but he also wanted to give back to his community in his own way. From university onward, he climbed the social ladder, befriending the right people for the natural next step of running for mayor two years after graduation. And winning! Silverhurst residents were more than eager to turn out in droves to elect a local boy made good, not to mention a young, dynamic candidate. It also didn't hurt that he'd become considerably handsome, as well as charismatic, with his lustrous black hair and sparking dark brown eyes.

Even with this remarkable rise to power, Braig never forgot his humble roots. Nor did he forget the promise he made. His family was indeed generously looked after, as he bought a roomier, more comfortable house in town for them with part of his first year's salary. Never again would they have to worry over sharing cramped spaces and dealing with the consequences of an overheated kitchen.

In spite of living in quite the manor himself, he wouldn't allow himself to let all the fame, fortune, and power get to his head (not quite, at least). He treated the locals as if he was still one of them and could be seen mingling amongst them during market days. He gave his personal staff every weekend off without fail. Often, he'd hold open council meetings to address as many business owners as he could, from the wealthy merchant to the poorer innkeep. As for his old school friends who chose to stay and make their livelihoods here, he could be found visiting their homes, sharing drinks at his favorite tavern, or going hunting within his favorite haunts. All in all, Braig was seen as a man of the people, someone who one could approach as a peer. And he was loved and appreciated by everyone who knew him, including some women who spared more than passing glances at him. However, no one fling ever truly stuck, as he was more than occupied with his social calls and duties.

Indeed, so dedicated was he to his mayoral responsibilities, he was willing to set aside his time to listen to a concerned citizen…even if it lasted well after the sun had set. On this particular evening, he sat in his office, trying to maintain his patience with a chatty—almost rambling—farmer. He'd had a long day already and felt rather guilty that his patience wore so thin.

"So, you see, sir, that's why I have…um…_apprehension _over these panels being built so close to my property," the farmer concluded at last, wringing his hands. "I'm really worried they'll taint my well water, not to mention my crops."

Braig raised an eyebrow. "Well water? That's the first time I've ever heard of them doing that."

The farmer cleared this throat before continuing, "Yes. I've been told that, by those things getting built, they'll disrupt the soil and pollute the nearest water source."

"OK, who told you that ridiculousness, Frederick?" Braig asked, barely resisting a weary chuckle at this nonsense.

"Wilfred Penwick, sir."

"Oh jeez, him again? He's always going around telling people our energy methods are a mistake and a conspiracy to destroy our world," the harried mayor sighed and shook his head. "Not to mention…Hey, when we went over the map earlier…His property isn't far from yours, is that right?"

Frederick nodded his head, looking a bit more hopeful. "That's right."

"Then, he probably thinks these solar panels are going to be an eyesore. Too bad for him, this is the second time I've heard his name mentioned this week. Listen"—and here, Braig gave Frederick a reassuring pat on the shoulder—"Next time I hear about him hassling you or someone else with his pile of pigeon droppings, I'll personally come to his house and tell him off. Protocol be damned! I don't want him hurting this town with his lies any more than you do."

The relieved farmer now beamed. "Y—You would do that? Thank you, sir! I didn't want to believe the panels ruining my crops would be true…"

"Of course not!" Braig scoffed. "And besides, like I said, they'll be built not quite over your property line. Everything should go well. I think you're like me and want what's best for everyone."

"Like running that nuisance Penwick out of town?"

With a full-on laugh, Braig gave Frederick another solid pat on the shoulder as he stood up. "Now we're just getting into petty territory, my man! You know I can't abuse my power like that."

"Oh well, it was worth a try." Frederick stood from his seat as well, giving Braig a grateful look. "Thank you again, sir. I know putting up with me must have been quite a trial. And look how dark it's gotten! I'm sure I've rui—"

He held up a hand. "Say no more! I'm just glad you told me who's been going around with the anti-panel poppycock. I'll definitely keep an eye on him. Good luck on the wheat this season!"

They shook hands, and Frederick the farmer soon departed, assured of his property as well as his peace of mind. One more one-on-one session brought to a satisfying end.

With another tired sigh, Braig locked up his office for the night. Once he'd done this, he turned to face his personal aide and childhood friend Lukas Frost.

"Meeting go well, Braig?" he asked.

He nodded, mustering a smile. "As well as can be expected, considering it went on for two hours. I went over the projected acreage of the solar farm with him, I reminded him what it's going to be for…Went over the property map I don't know _how _many times...Oh, and come to find out, Fred came to me in the first place because he heard Penwick's propaganda."

"Penwick again?" Lukas clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Hard to tell what's going on with that man. You'd think enough people would take the solar farms for granted to where they wouldn't believe his rot."

"You'd think, but never underestimate a shit-stirrer like him." Braig patted his friend on the shoulder. "But, oh well, it's done. And maybe some of this will start dying down, eh?"

"I certainly hope so." Lukas tilted his head toward the main staircase. "Well, since you don't need me any more tonight, I guess I'll head out."

"Just don't drink yourself into a stupor." Braig chuckled good-naturedly. "Man like you shouldn't be overdoing it."

"Oh, I won't." Lukas started going down the steps. "I can't be late for the bedtime story! The girls want to hear 'The Three Bears' again—they love my voices."

Braig let out a low whistle. "That's a wild night right there, buddy!"

"Don't I know it? They'll probably want to hear it _twice_. Take care of yourself, friend. See you tomorrow."

And, after another long and productive day, he was alone at last. He had intended on going out for a drink but felt drained, making him consider turning in for the night. As much as he prided himself on his social energy and ability to take in a good time, even he had his limits. Upon checking his office door once more to make sure it was properly locked, Braig strolled down the hallway, whistling a jaunty tune. And to think, he had to do this all over again tomorrow. He started running down a mental list as he idly turned down the electric wall sconces. For one, it would be a market day, so he couldn't very well miss that…He could use a few more odds and ends after all, especially with his father's birthday coming up. Then, he was to meet with Arthur Deckhart, the mayor of nearby Goldwood, to discuss the matter of the upcoming ball…What else?

He lost his train of thought when he heard the sound of footsteps directly above him. Due to his well-trained ear from all his hunting outings, he could tell that these came from a person and not some clever squirrel or raccoon. And here he thought he was alone! Nonetheless, he kept whistling so as to lull this potential thief into a false sense of security, pretending he didn't suspect a thing.

When he got to his room, he grabbed his handgun from under his bed and locked the door as he left. One could not afford to take too many chances, especially if this was a dangerous intruder. Then, he went up the short flight of stairs to the third floor, staying alert for any further noise. Moving further down the hall, he heard some jingling of coins. He determined that his unwanted guest was in the study and helping themselves to the contents of his safe. If he wasn't sure about his survival chances at the moment, he would be almost impressed. He didn't figure anyone would crack the safe's code other than him—not even Lukas would have guessed it if he dared.

Braig stood outside the door when he heard a whispered, "_Merde_!" and the sound of quickened footsteps trying to escape. Well, he'd put a stop to that!

"Hold it!" he yelled, promptly barging in and holding up his pistol…only to see another similar barrel staring him in the face.

He ventured a glance at his would-be assassin and found himself rather taken aback. Somehow, he hadn't expected the intruder to be a woman. And, if he had to admit it on first glance, a rather attractive woman at that.

She had just opened the window and was standing on the sill, one hand along the frame and that fancy pistol in the other. Her chestnut hair cascaded past her shoulders in slight waves, and she was quite elegantly dressed in a flowing black shirt with bell sleeves and maroon leather pants. Between the heart shape of her pale face and her deep-set gray eyes, she looked young for her age, yet her defiant expression betrayed no innocence. She could put him down with one shot if she wanted to…At least that was the threat conveyed through her steely eyes and jutted chin. And pursed lips. Overall, she did cut an imposing figure in spite of her petite height.

To all of that, Braig could only say, "All right, put the gun down."

"You first." She cocked her head to the side.

"Not until you tell me what you planned on doing with that." He motioned toward the open safe and the hastily half-filled bag on his desk—a bag containing quite a bit of money and some sapphires and rubies.

The woman rolled her eyes. "For donation…to my personal treasury, that is."

"So, you're not planning on assassinating me?" he asked, maintaining his grip on his pistol while gazing at her to make sure she didn't move.

"Of course not!" she barked out a laugh. "Why would I deign to kill someone as small-time as you? Please don't flatter yourself! Besides, cold-blooded murder goes against my moral code."

"But stealing doesn't. You certainly have an interesting definition of 'morals'."

"Just put the bleeding gun down, won't you?"

"Nah, I don't think I will unless you do." He smirked, unable to resist the urge to lord this over her.

"If you try to shoot, I won't miss—I have a hell of a good aim. Don't be foolish!" Yet, he could see her holding back a grin.

"You're enjoying this."

"Well, I must admit, this is a rather stimulating conversation. I'd expected to partake in this loot and steal quietly away into the night. This little diversion is a bit…unexpected…but not entirely unwelcome."

Meanwhile, her eyes seemed to ask the question _Now, are you going to put the gun down or not? _Teasing, almost in challenge. And, Braig had to admit, she had made a compelling case. She wasn't there to kill him, only to make off with some of his wealth. She had breezily switched to a more jovial mood, mocking the ridiculousness of the situation. The longer he stood there, aiming at her, the less reason he had to pull the trigger.

She made for an intriguing image too, standing on that sill with the moonlight streaming behind her. Almost like a goddess, if he was romantic enough to think such things. Which he wasn't, of course.

"Oh, let's put these guns away!" she entreated, lowering her pistol a fraction of an inch. "It would be a shame to blow each other's faces off over a few gems and coins."

"Hmm…How do I know you're not luring me into a trap?"

"You don't," she said wryly. "But, let's just say my mother and father raised me well enough to teach me that it's poor manners to shoot someone you just met."

He laughingly snorted while lowering his weapon in kind. "Then, this is probably for the best. It'd be a waste of a bullet if it hit your face."

"Likewise."

With a toss of her head, the woman replaced her pistol in her holster. Braig could see her gaze drifting toward her bag of treasures as she let slip a crafty smile.

Just as she was about to lunge toward his desk, he stepped in front of her. "Ah-ah-ah, not so fast, little thief!"

"Who the bloody hell are you calling 'little'?" she asked, not much heat behind her words. Her facial expression flickered from devious to an odd combination of amused and offended. "I came here for a reason. I intend to still follow through…if not for me, at least for my crewmates!"

"Ah, so you're a sky pirate then? Didn't think you all frequented these parts!"

The woman pursed her lips. "Damn…"

After a moment, she elaborated, "Normally, we don't. But, I was taking us to my sister's to see my nieces and nephew. This was meant to be a stop along the way. You just so happened to have the biggest, fanciest house in town…so I thought a quick little pilfering was in order. Please don't punish my friends—they had nothing to do with it, it was all my rash idea. I figured you had to have a few good things lying about, and at least I was right on that score!"

Braig leaned on his desk now, picking up the almost stolen bag of goods to casually toss and catch it in one hand, smirk plastered on his face. "That I do. Glad you noticed. Unfortunately for you, I can't let you walk out with this…Nah, actually, I can't let you out of here at all. You might try to steal from me again when I go to bed."

The woman went pale though stood to her full height (still quite shorter than him, he noted) and leaned towards him with a pointing finger. "And what is to be my punishment? You won't cut off my hand, will you? I've been close to that a couple times, but I'll have you know that—"

"I was thinking you could work for me for a month. Pay off your debt. I could always use an extra pair of hands around here."

Leaning away from him, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Be your bloody maid? No thank you. I'd just as soon go to the authorities and turn myself in!"

"You won't be a maid, number one. Two…," he trailed off, considering his next point as he emptied the bag's contents back into his safe. "I could report you to the authorities. I have that mayoral cred, not to mention they quite like me. It's good to have friends in high places sometimes!"

He could see out of the corner of his eye that she was fuming, tapping her foot impatiently. "Blackmailing me, are you? I respect that…on some level. But, I will not be your servant."

"I'll give you a weekly salary, relax. You seem like you're pretty smart. You can balance the books for me, do some chores…Whatever needs done around here. Hey, you gotta admit"—he shrugged, giving her a disarming smile—"it's not a bad offer to someone who just breaks into people's houses whenever she wants. Best part is, you'll get to keep all your body parts."

"How kind," she lightly mocked and then followed that with a huffy sigh. "Let me think about it."

And she genuinely seemed to as she spent a few moments of silence mulling his proposition over. Braig noted that she started pacing back and forth, habitually tossing her chestnut hair and tapping lightly on her holstered gun. He didn't want to have to worry about her shooting him. She had quite the wit, made obvious with their sparkling conversation. So soon into their acquaintance, he already couldn't help but like her.

And then, she finished her pacing and looked up at him with shrewd eyes. "So you _will_ pay me weekly?"

"The same as I would anyone who works under me."

"And you won't throw me in a dungeon or torture chamber the first chance you get?"

"Well, shit, I'm going to have to put away my iron maiden," he quipped, raising an amused brow at her. "No. Nothing like that at my house. I have guest rooms, what do you think I am? Sadistic?"

"And the tasks won't be humiliating or degrading?"

"Can't say basic accounting isn't a bitch sometimes…But, other than that, nope. I'm not that kind of boss, say what you will about me otherwise!"

For the first time since their encounter, the woman brightened. "Then, we have a deal! Just allow me to pack some belongings and let the girls know."

"Sure, just don't fly away."

To his bemused surprise, he saw that she opted not to take the stairs but instead went for a more unorthodox approach.

She stepped back onto the sill, leaned out, and bellowed, "Sorry, girls, afraid the owner has caught me fair and square! I've agreed to work for him for a month, make it up to him!"

Unmistakably feminine voices from outside (and sounding quite close, up around the rooftop) let out a stream of curses and questions in response. One such question Braig could easily make out:

"Is he cute at least, Val?!"

"Val" turned back around to face him, as if appraising him for the first time. Initially, her face was unreadable, though her gray eyes glinted with amusement.

Smile tugging at her lips, she tilted her head back and replied, "Passable!"

She then glanced back toward him and winked. He snorted, rolling his eyes, yet he couldn't help feeling oddly flattered.

Holding onto the frame with both hands, she asked at the top of her lungs, "You'll wait for me til then, won't you?!"

"Sorry, no can do. We got treasure to seek!"

She couldn't suppress her laughter. "Faithless scourges! What am I to do with you two, eh? Abandoning your captain like that, for shame! Let me come up and pack my things at least!"

Braig observed a rope ladder being thrown down, precariously swinging back and forth. Of course, that wasn't about to deter Val. Without blinking an eye or even staying still long, she leapt onto the flimsy ladder and scrambled up it with ease. He walked up to the sill, looking up to make sure she'd keep her end of the agreement. Beyond a dark head and a blond one, he couldn't make out what the other two sky pirates looked like. Every now and then, he could hear snatches of wily banter (with language he rarely heard outside local watering holes) and laughter but not much else. It felt as though she would be up there for a while, in no real hurry to come back.

Eventually, he heard her yell, "Catch!" and he caught hold of a rather hefty suitcase that thumped against his chest.

"Yeah, you're welcome," he quipped as she came back into view on her descent.

Balancing a smaller valise on her hip, she peered over her shoulder with a grin. "I wasn't going to be able to carry _two_ cases on the way down, now was I?"

He let out a short chuckle. "I don't know. You sure managed that ladder fine enough."

"Eh, I'm used to it. Bye for now, girls! Cheers!" Val shouted once again at her crew before launching herself off the ladder and onto the sill. She waved away his proffered hand and performed a backflip from there to inside the room.

"Huh. Show off more, why don't you?" He smiled, shaking his head as he put the window latch back in place. There was no denying she could impress.

She winked at him again. "Trick of the trade. You have to be creative in my line of work. Quick escape attempts and all that."

"So…since you work for me now…Mind telling me your name?"

And she gave him a sweeping bow in response. "Valeria Gloria Bernadette Manigault, at your reluctant service!"

Braig tried her full name on his tongue, realizing that that was quite the mouthful. But, of course, such a proudly unique person as her would have an equally flamboyant name. However, some of those noble names he'd heard bandied about…Perhaps this was not a sky pirate's imaginative nom de plume but her true full name.

"Hm, Manigault…That nobility by any chance?"

"Ha!" Valeria scoffed. "Clever blighter, aren't you? Yes, I'm just your garden-variety viscount's daughter who ran away from home due to dissatisfaction with her sheltered lifestyle. It's all quite boring stuff. You don't need to hear the whole story, trust me."

She proceeded to step toward him, hand extended. "And you would be…? Or shall I call you 'Mr. Mayor' from here on out?"

"Braig Keln. Just Braig, though, to pretty much everyone."

"Braig…I like it. It suits you. Well, Braig…" She took his hand in a firm yet friendly grip. "Let's hope that this will be an advantageous opportunity for the both of us."

Glancing down at her with her bright eyes and smiling face, he returned her handshake. "I plan on it."

"Very good. I expect you'll make this month worth my while then," she said, lowering her voice to a husky murmur. He only barely noticed that she hadn't withdrawn her hand, and she stood mere inches away from him.

Holding his breath, he nonetheless retorted, "Don't worry, I will, just as long as you don't try to steal from me again."

He thought he felt her slender fingers stroke against his. "Naturally. You have my honor as a Manigault…for what it's worth."

They both stood there, never releasing each other from the protracted "handshake", and their eyes locked. A sign of things to come.

* * *

Over the next week and a half, as Braig had hoped, Valeria proved her worth as an employee. Although she had made such a big to-do about her reluctance, she dove into any task with enthusiasm. She balanced the household account books almost as well as he could ("Navigating involves more math than you'd think!"), haggled with the local vendors for that day's shopping ("You've been cheated on this fellow's apples before"), and even advised him with town affairs albeit less successfully ("Build those panels right on that Penwick bloke's property, see if he goes into hysterics!"). She won over Lukas and the rest of the small personal staff with her curious, outgoing nature and occasional bawdy jokes. And he found her a delight at the dinner table, talking animatedly about the days' events as well as some tales of her travels. It didn't hurt that he could leave much of the work to her, while he could go about his civic duties and solitary walks in the woods.

However, she still could be prone to distraction, as he discovered one day. Instead of dusting some of the library shelves, like she'd offered, he saw her stretched out on an armchair, engrossed in a book.

Braig suppressed his rising laughter at the sight. _She can actually sit still once in a while!_

Not only that, he couldn't help but feel rather endeared to this image of her reading. Perhaps her penchant for snooping around often led to trouble, but he admired her curiosity for the world around her.

"Slacking on the job, are we?" he drawled, leaning with crossed arms on the nearest shelf.

Valeria startled to attention, letting the book close on her finger marking her place.

"Absolutely not!" she grinned. "Someone has to read your books, since you certainly don't visit this room often."

He shrugged. "Not enough hours in the day. 'Sides, it's good to keep a lot of unread books. Makes me look studious."

"Right, you, studious," she teased, opening the book back up.

And when she shifted her position, he couldn't help but pay special attention to the way she uncrossed then re-crossed her legs. Her black leather pants (of which she had many like them) generously showed them off, emphasizing their length and shapeliness. He wondered what they would…He quickly glanced away, pretending to let out a short cough.

_Easy there. She's only been here a week, don't even go there, bud._

When he looked back at her, he could see the rather smug smile on her face.

"Enjoying the view? Can't say I blame you," she quipped, casually turning a page.

"Well, you certainly have good taste in pants!" Braig replied before changing the subject as smoothly as he could. "So, what are you reading anyway?"

Valeria held up the book so he could glimpse the title. "It's sort of a philosophy book from what I gather. Something about Kingdom Hearts…?"

"Ah, yeah." He stepped closer to the chair, setting a hand on one arm. "It's kind of like our…I guess you could call it a god, but that's not quite right. It's more of a presence, I guess, a life force. What hearts get put into it can come back out…or not."

"Hm, like reincarnation then?"

"Vaguely. But, hell, even the sages can't always suss it out. So, it's hard telling."

Humming to herself, Valeria seemed to skim some previously read passages as if she could hazard a guess. "Interesting. I'm actually not much into religion myself. I'm just more fascinated with what other people believe in. It can say a lot about them."

He smiled. "Can I ask why you're not religious?"

"As long as you don't stuff pamphlets down my throat." Her gray eyes twinkled. "Religion was done so much more intensely where I was from. The outlying villages made it more about celebration and peace offerings. Meantime, I was forced to go to this cold, musty church where all of us children would be lectured. If we weren't well-behaved, Magmus the fire god would come to our beds at night and consume us." She let out a chuckle, rolling her eyes. "I can only imagine what those priests told the adults…I can't remember. I quit going when I was twelve."

He laughed as well. "A fire god eating kids? That's some imagery."

"Indeed, all rubbish! All I need to believe in is the open sky and a good, strong breeze." Valeria gestured to the window behind her. "What use do I have for religion?"

Braig peered outside where she was indicating: brilliant blue sky with patches of clouds. Freedom from all earthly ties. In that moment, he saw her point. There were just some things that seemed so trivial compared to simply living life on one's own terms. An idea that she represented and embraced completely, he could see that through the lively sparkle in her eyes.

"Good point. Though…" He brushed his shoulder against hers as he traced the gilded lettering on the book cover. "You'll find in here that this whole Kingdom Hearts thing is beyond religion. I know, I've read it."

She snapped her gaze to his, shaking her head and pursing her lips in false outrage. "Why, you…"

But, he was already halfway out of the room, laughing at how well he'd pulled her leg, even in this small way.

* * *

The days passed in a blur. While Braig oversaw the beginnings of the solar farm as well as the biannual spring ball marking the planting season, Valeria continued to assist when needed. However, he saw her less and less as a paid employee and more as an emotional fixture. A good person to talk to and joke with, someone who he was naturally drawn to—it felt great to find someone else he matched wits with.

And the longer she stayed around, the more she had gained her bearings in Silverhurst. Along with the more mundane market days, she made good use of her earnings by visiting the established shops. Not content to let the silver and copper coins burn in her pocket, she would return with arms full of packages containing purchased treasures: books, pants, skirts, and various small trinkets. She even stopped by the taverns once in a while. In one such instance, she had participated in festivities to the extent that Braig had had to help her up the stairs upon her return.

"You know which room is yours, right?" he'd asked, fighting his urge to chuckle.

With bleary eyes, she'd looked at him and slurred out, "Of c-course I dooo," opened the nearest door…and fell right on top of his bed. Out of good graces, he took the liberty of sleeping in an unoccupied guest room that night. The next morning, they'd laughed about it, though she nursed a horrifically pounding headache and would wince while doing so.

Otherwise, she did not let the spontaneous part of her personality get that much the better of her. The townsfolk got used to seeing her around, and if they were put off by her strangeness, they were soon set at ease. And if Valeria felt the nerves of their potential judgment, she rarely showed it. She made many casual acquaintances and came to know some of the shopkeepers by name. She was not only a good assistant but a good complement to their mayor, many people figured out. They gossiped about how they could picture the two of them becoming more than colleagues. Braig could not help but hear their whispers, particularly when he'd sometimes accompany her on market day outings.

Romance, however, would remain a distant fantasy. Before he knew it, it was now a few, short days before Val's month was up. She would leave them. She would leave _him_. Of course, he wouldn't stop her. Who was he to try?

"I mean, that whole arrangement was kind of icky, wasn't it?" he asked Lukas as they walked toward his office. "I wasn't gonna put her under full-on house arrest—that's not my style—but I shouldn't have threatened her with the fuzz. I'd look bad if I asked her to stay now. Don't need that blow to the ego."

Lukas glanced at him with a knowing smile. "So, you've taken quite the shine to her. I understand. Can't say we won't miss her around these parts. She's been entertaining."

Braig groaned, holding his head. "Don't even mention the 'l' word, Luke."

"I wasn't going to…" Lukas' smile widened.

While they were in his office, looking over a business application, a large shadow suddenly blotted out the filtered sunlight. Lukas went over to the window to investigate.

"Ah, Braig, it looks like a…very large ship is close to your house."

Braig looked out, and, sure enough, he recognized the wood-and-metal hull of Valeria's ship.

"Well, hell, she can leave early if she wants. It's been close enough to a full month, so I won't get picky."

_The least I can do is see her off_, he thought as he mounted the steps to the topmost floor. Yet, he couldn't help but feel a certain pang, one he didn't typically get. Sadness? Regret? He suspected but he dared not think it. After all, the circumstances of their meeting had been weird. The whole situation was _weird_. If she'd developed any feelings at all like…

When he opened the unusually large window of his attic, he could see and hear Valeria engaging in conversation with her friends. Now that he got a better look at them, he saw a black-haired woman with dark brown eyes and an olive complexion and another with straw-blond hair and rosy skin. All three of them were chatting animatedly.

"…And that's why I don't see the harm in staying another month or two. Good shopping to be found here besides," he heard Valeria remark. "So tempting to actually acquire things through legal means!"

"Yeah, but then we'll get rusty," the dark-haired woman pointed out.

The blonde nodded in agreement. "Have to agree with Em on this one. It's just so much more fun to get into a little swordplay and run across rooftops!"

Valeria sighed, shaking her head. "I suppose you're telling me I've gone soft. Be that as it may…"

At this point, she spotted Braig peeking out, smiled, and waved. "Come on aboard, Braig! These two"—she pointed at her friends—"are Emmalia Pressaro and Lynessa Nisk, my dubious crewmates in arms. They were just leaving."

Lynessa looked affronted. "And miss out on making proper acquaintance with your friend?"

"Afraid so, Lyn." Valeria shrugged. "Besides, you two can't have much to complain about. I'm giving you free leave to enjoy yourselves."

Emmalia stared straight at him. "Hello, Messere Braig! It appears you're as good-looking as Val told us."

"Huuush," the put-upon captain begged with (if he was not mistaken) a slightly flushed face.

Meanwhile, he only let out his customary easygoing chuckle and bowed. "Hey, I'll take a free compliment where I can get it. Thanks."

Without needing to be prompted, Lynessa went about lowering the gangplank, which he then gingerly got onto and started walking across. However, he soon found that, much like her fellow shipmate, she too couldn't hold her tongue.

"All righty, you two, we'll let you have the ship for the afternoon. Keep in mind, though, that I just washed the sheets yesterday."

"Lynessa!" Valeria yelped, sounding rather oddly scandalized as her face turned a darker, ruddier red.

"Only putting that out there!" Lynessa smirked with a sly wink for good measure.

Braig bit the inside of his cheek, knowing that even if he cracked a hint of a smile, Val would be further mortified. He was many things, but heartless was not one of them.

He gestured off to the side, motioning the two women to cross the gangplank to his sill. "You can just leave through my house, ladies. I don't mind. I doubt you'll try to steal anything with my staff around."

Passing by him, Lynessa thanked him with a slight nod. "Wouldn't dream of stealing from you. A friend of Val's is one of ours!"

"We'll behave! Your town looks lovely," Emmalia followed her friend close behind, paused, and then stage whispered, "As lovely as our Val, wouldn't you say?"

"All right, you two, get out of here!" Valeria pretended to sound authoritative, placing her hands on her hips. "And be good!"

"Yes, Mother," both mocked in unison before giggling and retreating inside the house.

Braig walked the remainder of the gangplank to the ship, and as he approached her, he noticed that she was still blushing. Tossing her hair back, standing proud, and yet…giving him somewhat furtive glances.

She cleared her throat then. "Right. My apologies for my friends. They're a bit rambunctious, prone to saying whatever's off the tops of their heads…They do mean well."

He waved away her apology. "No offense taken. Quite the contrary. I think they're funny."

"You would," she retorted, yet he saw the traces of her familiar smile begin to show. "At any rate, welcome aboard the _Celestial Comet_! Helmed her for six years, and I cannot think of a finer ship. I'll give you the grand tour."

The blush had now faded to a pink tint that also managed to show off her light freckles, he couldn't help but observe. He followed her belowdecks, briefly admiring both the outward view and the sheen of the deck before he went down the short flight of stairs. Already he had to hand it to her and her crew—it was obvious that this ship meant a great deal to them.

Once they made it down and Valeria started showing him around, he nearly stopped in amazement. It was so much more expansive down here than he would have assumed. And so ornate, with the beautiful, shining light wood paneling as well as the occasional patterned rug here and there. Little nooks and crannies were filled to the brim with treasure chests, jewelry collections, and even small pyramids of gold and silver ingots. They stopped by the library, where she let him peer at the various leather-bound tomes dealing with topics such as other worlds, astronomy, and cartography. There was even an ebony desk in the corner with marked-up maps strewn on top.

Then, they went on toward the three main bedrooms, with beds that looked soft and inviting, piled with pillows that definitely had not been filled with straw like he'd been used to growing up. And what he guessed to be Val's room seemed to have a generous amount of closet space as well as another messy writing desk, where a leather-bound journal lay in wait. However, he only caught that barest glimpse before she closed the door.

"Don't even dare, pervert!" she laughed as she moved breezily right along the hall.

He shrugged. "I wasn't thinking about snooping."

_Well, I kind of was, but there's no way I'm telling!_

"Liar," she replied in sing-song.

The end of the hall branched off to three distinct areas: galley, parlor, and dining room. The parlor had four tall, purple velvet chairs clustered around a glass table, where an elegant stained-glass lamp stood. Two more bookshelves were also showcased along with minor decorations (such as marble lion bookends) in the empty spaces.

He guffawed, rather gob-smacked at all this finery. "Did you really steal all this?"

"Am I really still a mere thief to you? I thought we'd progressed further along our friendship than that," Valeria mockingly lamented, punctuating her words with a slight pout. "If you must know, some of what you see here was purchased honestly. It's just as nice to find a little something unique to buy as your own. Yes, we steal, but only from the highest and wealthiest. And we give to the poor as well as shopkeepers and artisans."

Braig gazed at her, tracing a finger along the head of one lion bookend. "Yeah. Guess I'm still getting used to the whole 'having extraneous stuff' thing myself. And I didn't mean to accuse you or anything. I'd like to think I know you pretty well."

They held each other's gaze before Valeria turned and coughed. "Of course you do. Open book, that's me! I'll show you what's left."

And she led the way to the galley, stepping quite lively as if to put distance between herself and this more intimate moment. As before, he tagged along, now catching sight of a still-life painting of red chrysanthemums. He quite admired the lush yet comfortable abode she and her friends had created out of this ship.

_Among other things…_

The galley appeared more utilitarian than the other rooms but no less pleasant, with an iron stove and various dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. Attached was a walk-in pantry with jars of preserved fruits and jams among other goods stashed away.

"Not much to see here. Just our survivalist cooking space," she beamed. "We all contribute. It's like what my sister Helene would say: if you can't cook for yourself, then you're _un_ _balourd paresseux_, a lazy oaf!"

He let out a short laugh. "I mean, I cook here and there. I cure my own meat and cook that."

"Do you?" She wagged her eyebrows. "I do commend you for giving work to your personal cook. But, if that's all you can do…"

"Hardly! I fix a mean venison stew." He playfully nudged her elbow.

"I ought to try that. Well, I saved the best for last! This way."

Similar to the galley, the dining room was a simple affair with a table and a set of five wooden chairs with powder blue upholstered cushions. There was a freshly picked bouquet of violets as the centerpiece. A large painting of a sky ship at sunset hung on the wall. And right next to that painting, Braig noticed what must have been the main attraction: a liquor cabinet. Bottles of different shapes and sizes gleamed with rays of sunlight from the nearby porthole. Most on display appeared to be wine bottles, but he recognized the odd whiskey or beer among them. Valeria moved towards this collection, opened the cabinet, and traced her finger along the labels. She furrowed her brows in careful thought, making clicking noises with her tongue. Finally, she pulled out a bottle and removed two glasses from the nearest cupboard.

"I think we ought to cap off your tour with my personal favorite!" she remarked as she unsealed the bottle. She proceeded to pour a reddish-brown liquid into each glass, and Braig could see the foam fizzing on top.

Valeria said simply, "Amber ale. I got this from a world called Montressor, but it reminds me of the stuff from my home region. Very rich, very delicious. Try it!"

He took the proffered glass and drank deep, allowing the warm liquid to course down his throat. Closing his eyes, he found the taste perfectly bittersweet, and it went down so smooth.

"It's great!" He smiled broadly. "But, am I getting this right? You were a kid when you had this for the first time?

She scratched the back of her head, trying and failing to look sheepish. "Guilty as charged. I was fifteen, out with a few friends at the Grey Dragon. Had to find my fun _somewhere_. Let's take these up topside and enjoy the view!"

When they returned to the upper docks, Valeria slipped into the bridge to "mess about with some gadgets", as she explained. Once she accomplished that, she strode toward him, drink firmly in her hand. He felt the ship shudder into movement, so that he had to grip his own glass to prevent it falling away. Meanwhile, she stood steady, not at all bothered.

"I put her on auto pilot!" she mentioned. "We'll go once around Silverhurst, so you'll get to see how I first saw it."

He nodded, still gripping his glass hard. "There isn't such a thing as being 'airsick' up here, is there?"

She chuckled. "No, not usually. Perhaps a mild case of vertigo for heights sufferers, but other than that, this is much smoother than conventional sailing."

She took a long drink of her ale then, until the glass was half-empty, Braig observed with appreciation. There wasn't much in the worlds that seemed to perturb her.

Both of them stood quiet for a while, gazing down at Silverhurst from a perspective he would have never dreamed to see it. No doubt, the view was breathtaking. Everything below appeared neat and evenly spread-out, a veritable patchwork quilt of fields, hilltops, shoreline, and woods. The grand Emerald River cut through the landscape yet, from here, looked like a glistening blue ribbon. And so many townspeople walking around, going about their business…If he didn't know better, he would have thought he was studying an ant colony. All the while, the _Celestial Comet_ slowly drifted along, so that little bypassed them. He felt then that, whenever he would consider his pride and affection for this town, he would think of this moment and of how magnificent Silverhurst truly looked. And how great it was being a part of it.

Only Valeria's voice broke through his reverie. "Beautiful, isn't it? I suppose there was something about this place that attracted me other than potential riches. And now…"

"And now?" he prompted, daring not to hope for what came next.

"I don't know how much of our conversation you heard. But, I want to stay here for the next month or two. What do you think?" She turned toward him, propping her elbows up against the rail as she gave him a slight smile. "I could get a house here, avoid the utter _scandal_ of being an unattached woman living with you…Of course, I'd like to visit often."

The complete joy this news stirred in him almost made him burst.

However, as cool as ever, he drawled, "Well, I suppose that would be all right. Considering this is practically your home and everything. And here I thought I'd have to beg you to stick around."

"Oh, please, Braig!" she grinned, letting out a short laugh. "You can't get enough of me, and you know it!"

_If you only knew how true that was._

He merely flashed his crooked grin in response and took another drink of ale.

They both looked down at the bustling town again, each lost in their own thoughts. This silence did not last long, for as soon as she finished her ale, Valeria asked softly, "So, what was it like to grow up here? I can imagine you had a fascinating childhood."

"Not much to tell," he replied with half a shrug. "Son of a blacksmith, oldest of four kids, grew up near the woods…Right down there"—he pointed down to the verdant expanse of trees and shrubs—"I'd be out there all the time. You couldn't drag me away. I guess you still can't! I still take walks there, still hunt…I think that's what's comforting about them. Not much changes. It's a great spot to get away from things."

She hummed in thought. "That all sounds quite rustic, quaint even. But lovely. So, you were an outdoors sort."

"Oh, yeah. My siblings or my friends and I would be out climbing trees and playing hide-and-seek. Except our version was more like fox-and-hens." Braig smiled down toward the woods, dark eyes softening with nostalgia. "But, through all that, I was still a good kid. Kept my nose relatively clean and hit the books when I needed to. I just knew that, whatever job I went into, I was going to help my family, too. I was gonna make sure we were all going to live in better places than a cramped little cottage. And that's how I got to be the awe-inspiring, self-made man you see today."

When he glanced back at Valeria, he saw that she had been listening intently, her smile looking wistful and almost sad. However, that teasing glow danced in her eyes again as she grinned. "Can't you go two minutes without praising yourself?"

"Hm, I don't know, Val. Can you?" He turned to face her, eyebrow raised.

She let her mouth fall agape in an overexaggerated show of offense before lightly swatting at him. "You cur! Do you talk to all women like that? Is this how you charm them?"

Braig lifted his hands in mock surrender. "You got me. Now, you can tell every woman you know about me, and I'll get ignored at every shindig."

"It'd serve you right!"

Not even hiding that this was all in jest, Valeria held back her head and laughed. For a moment, he wondered if it was the alcohol or her wily sense of humor making her act this way. Not that he minded.

When she settled down, he said, "All right, your turn. What was growing up like for you?"

The smile abruptly slid off her face, and even her eyes took on a shuttered, guarded look. She resettled her arms atop the ship rail, going so far as to hunch over her shoulders. He hoped that he hadn't hurt her feelings, but he wasn't so sure—she'd turned her face slightly away. If only he hadn't been so short-sighted. After all, she had alluded to running away from home earlier.

Just as he made to touch her shoulder out of comfort, she sighed and murmured, "My childhood was not nearly as idyllic as yours."

"So what? Tell me anyway." He laid his hand on top of her slim one. "We've got all afternoon, and I've been told I'm a pretty good listener."

Continuing to stare off into the distance, she looked so mentally far away that he almost didn't think she would acknowledge him. When she did, she withdrew her hand but patted his before running her fingers through her hair. She bit her lip in consternation, as if he'd proposed throwing her off the ship instead of opening up to him. Yet, when she glanced up at him, he could see the pained wince on her face.

Finally, with another heavy sigh, she relented, "Very well. I don't go around telling people about my background—because, yes, I have had it used against me before—but Em and Lyn know at least. And I actually trust you too, so…"

She went on, staring at her hands. "I never felt like I truly belonged back home. Certainly not to my station in life. I was the middle of five children, so I always felt as though I needed to stand out in some way. And even though we were relatively low on the nobility food chain, our parents still largely entrusted us to the care of nannies, governesses, and tutors. It also felt as though we had to compete against each other. Who would turn out to be the most charming? Who would marry into the best alliance? That sort of rot. When I was really young, I opted to be the most erudite. I was an avid reader, studier of maps, and knew parts of three languages by the time I was ten. But, of course, no bloody point in that"—she let out a bitter chuckle—"because my parents fretted that my nose was too stuck in the books. They wanted me to master needlepoint, the pianoforte, dancing, etiquette….All so I could attain the ideal husband when the time came. I never took any of that seriously, since they'd neglect me often anyway. I'd hoped at some point, they'd forget all about that shit and give me up for a lost cause. Because I could get up to my fair bit of mischief myself."

Valeria indulged in a sly smile, her eyes gleaming. "I would have _dreamed_ to have your childhood, out in the woods and going on adventures. As it was, I was quite unruly, wild even. I once chased my history tutor around with a frog, begging him to kiss it to break its curse. I'd race on horseback with my sisters Helene and Arabelle until we got appallingly sweaty and unkempt. I often sneaked into the kitchens after midnight. And, every now and then, I'd get into the rare fight if any visiting noble child dared to insult my sisters or my little brother Henri, our house's crowning glory. I had to defend their honor—I was their knight, wasn't I? My parents would be mortified when that happened. One more marriage alliance in the gutter, oh well!"

Braig idly tapped his fingers atop the rail, listening, entranced by her story. "So, did you always know you'd be an adventurer?"

"More or less. I wasn't content with sitting still, unless it was with a book or atlas of some sort. I couldn't play one good chord on the pianoforte. And there was more than one instance where I wanted to chuck my embroidery out the window. This wouldn't be my whole life. I knew I was destined for bigger." She stretched her arms out to reveal just how far she'd come. "This! This is more like it!"

"But, then, you got older, you went out to the village for fun…" He tilted his head, sensing a change in tone.

"Yes," she muttered. "The pits of adolescence. Saying goodbye to Helene when she got married off…Saying goodbye to Ari when she was fifteen, shipped off to marry that piece of offal she has to call husband. Literally just had her coming-out ball, and she was gone in a flash. Josette, the great Manigault beauty, had been gone for some years. So, it was me and Henri left. Or, really, just me"—she frowned—"since he was the heir and therefore got all the attention. You're right about my village tavern visits being the turning point. Dear Father and Mother eventually got wind of that and, well…They rushed my coming-out and held it as soon as I turned seventeen. But, I had few takers. They were getting desperate. Surely, a husband and children would sort me out. Never got the urge to have children by the way. Never have, never will, though I do love Helene's children dearly. I can play aunt all day and never mind it. _Maman_, on the other hand…"

Braig shrugged, smiling by way of sympathy. "Hey, I know all about that. I'm an uncle, too. I don't have the urgency to carry on my 'family legacy' or whatever, especially since there's already four of us. Besides, I don't think I'd be cut out for the whole parenting thing."

"Neither would I! I'd bribe mine with cookies to behave and let them climb trees unsupervised. I'd be the worst at it, and I know it."

"Cookie bribery? That's my go-to with my brother's kiddos!"

Valeria laughed, partially out of amusement, partially out of genuine surprise. "See, you understand! It is a good tactic, isn't it? Right, where was I? Oh, yes…There were a couple of suitors sent to court, ostensibly for a marriage contract. I was not high-ranking, so things were done slightly less formally in that regard. All the same, of course, I still gave everyone involved hell. One suitor got a little handsy with me, so I pushed him off a very short flight of stairs. Fell right on his ass, it was quite a sight! These whole proceedings became a proper disaster, my loving, supportive parents saw that a mile away. No more courtships then. One evening, they took me aside and told me I was to marry a forty-five-year-old widowed earl with five children. The contract had been drawn up in advance. Mother in particular was very cold, as she always was. She informed me they had only humored me in letting me be courted, but this had been decided for two years. And I still remember what Father said to me, 'Perhaps a husband will finally calm you down.' All to avoid me being more of an embarrassment to the family. When wasn't I in their eyes?"

Although her hands had remained still, Braig detected a slight tremor running through them. "I knew I could be difficult with my stubbornness sometimes. But, all I had ever really wanted was their approval. Don't we all seek that from our parents? Approval, pride, unconditional love? I rarely got it. There was always something to criticize, from my reading habits to how I conducted teatime conversation with my friends to even my size once. I was too short, whatever. Yet, I had always embraced my femininity—I take great pride in being a woman above all else but…That still wasn't enough. I had more talented, more obedient siblings. What was I other than a nuisance?"

Valeria clenched her hands on the rail, her gray eyes in steely resolve as her face hardened. "Then again, what need had I of my parents—of this life—after a certain point? If I kept bending myself backwards for approval, then I wouldn't be able to be myself any more. I couldn't let that happen. I had to be true to what my heart wanted. And what my heart wanted…was not to be confined to nobility. I'd dreamed of far-off places, exploring, and most importantly, making my own fate. So, running away to become a sky pirate…Well, that was the inevitable next step." She let slip a wan smile. "I fled home that night, went to the nearest port town, and met Frederica Thorne also known as Sly Fox Freddie. Offered myself as a cabin girl. She took me on and turned out to be a better parental figure than both my parents put together. Make no mistake, she was still brash and wily when she wanted to be and taught me how to use a pistol. She could be tough, probably still is! I was her eager pupil and then struck out on my own with this ship that she gifted me. One of her own that she had at port. Best of all? Freddie wasn't afraid to tell me she was proud of me or encourage me."

This was a lot to take in, Braig considered when she finished her colorful story. Compared to his humble yet rewarding beginnings, hers had been full of all the complex twists and turns. Her strong sense of self had emerged, even as her own parents did their level best to suppress it. He couldn't say he could imagine tolerating that kind of scenario himself. And he suspected there were depths to her pain that she was still trying to swim past. Through it all, she had come out on top. He could sense his heart nearly flooding over with warm regard for her.

Valeria shook her head at some private thought before turning more fully toward him. "Moral of the story is that too much wealth turns people into wankers. Don't let your change in status change_ you_, Braig. Please? I quite like you. Don't end up like my parents."

"Hey, don't worry," he reassured her with a wink. "It's enough to be mayor. Don't need to add 'duke' or 'baron' to my resume. Besides, I try not to forget where I came from."

"Stated very sensibly, as always. You're the salt of the earth compared to these other snobs with coin." She nodded approvingly before continuing with a light scoff, "Ha, I won't lie, that marriage prospect was the last bloody straw. As if I was going to allow my parents to dispose of me like I was chattel! I could never bear the idea of marrying this disgustingly older man, tend to his children, and become his next brood mare. Even at seventeen, I saw that future. As soon as I'd get past my childbearing years, I'd be like my mother and reduced to playing matchmaker for all my offspring. Then wither away doing accursed needlepoint, with my 'lord husband' likely having been dead for several decades. All this for what? So I could be a gorgeous young ornament on his arm at parties?"

Resting one hand on the rail, Braig leaned closer. "Did you just call yourself gorgeous?"

"Well, aren't I?"

With a pointed jut of her chin and a toss of her head, she meant this as a clear joke, he understood this. And yet, at that moment, he could no longer deny his sentiments on the subject. As the afternoon had given way to sunset, those dying rays flattered her appearance. Her eyes twinkled so brightly that they looked almost silver. And as the sun continued setting, it seemed to catch the copper undertones in her chestnut hair, creating a distinct glow around her head. On this ship, her home turf, she looked not only comfortable but unstoppable, as if nothing could shake her no matter what she'd felt in the past.

Before he realized he was doing this, he had lifted his hand and gently caressed her face, murmuring, "That's definitely not up for debate."

"Now, really," Valeria responded with a slight quaver in her voice yet revealing a hopeful smile, "I was just trying to be clever again, not fishing for compliments."

The two of them stood quite close then, closer than they had been the night they met. The night where, with all the casual flirtation, Braig had suspected his life would change for the better.

He got bolder, brushing his thumb across her lower lip and cradling her face fully in his hand. "Too bad, you're getting them. Here's another one. You're unlike any woman I've ever met."

"And you're certainly unlike any man I've ever met," she whispered back, with a beautiful smile that made his heart leap. "Being around you has made me even happier…"

When he would reflect later, he would be unable to recall with certainty as to who made the fateful move (though he was sure it was her), but they soon swept each other up in their first kiss. He could taste the ale on her breath as she poured every emotion into it, throwing her arms about his shoulders and stretching herself upward to get closer. And he responded with equal passion, letting a hand come to rest idly on her hip. As far as he was concerned, no one else's kiss had existed before hers. That had to be true, he assumed, especially once she moved her lips from his and left a fiery trail of kisses along his jawline.

When they parted, Braig felt as if he had just emerged from a hazy fever dream, with the breath knocked out of him. Judging by her dazed eyes and half-smile, Valeria must have felt the same. She even touched her lips as if she couldn't believe what had happened. Meanwhile, his heart couldn't stop beating, both from the exertion and the rush of heady emotions. What the hell was happening to him? He was more used to playing things cool, close enough to people…women…to where he was affable but distant enough to maintain a professional reputation. After all, as long as he was mayor, he figured he worked best as a level-headed, impartial party to everything.

That was surely dashed after this afternoon. And he did not regret it for an instant.

"'Fraid you're in real trouble now, Val. I'm involved," he joked once he'd evened out his breathing.

She smirked back. "If trouble feels anything like _that_ just did, then send me to hell straight away!"

With a gravelly chuckle, he ruffled her hair. "Right there with you."

They stood shoulder-to-shoulder, lapsing into a more content silence that remained for the rest of the short trip. He affectionately massaged her arm every now and again, while she leaned her head on his shoulder. At that moment, the whole world had ceased to exist. For all he knew, it had always been the two of them the whole time, like a pair of swans purposely isolated on their own pond.

The _Celestial Comet_ had drifted to the edge of the town boundaries, where it was all untamed woods stretching for miles. Off in the distance, he could just make out the blurred outline of the mountains. As high up as they were, perhaps they could come close enough to touch them. An unlikely fantasy yet a good one to indulge, especially since he felt like he could do anything now. After all, he had her by his side.

But, the ride had to end at a certain point, especially with dusk fast approaching. Valeria excused herself to recalibrate her ship's course and set her toward home. When she reemerged, the way she looked aroused Braig's suspicions. She still smiled at him, for all intents and purposes still happy around him. Yet, weariness seemed to pull at the corners of her smile, and her eyes held lingering sorrow from whatever thoughts she must have had in that brief moment alone. He wondered what she could have been thinking that hurt her so much after the joyous occasion they had shared. Was it him? Or regret from talking about the past? Or perhaps, a bit of both?

"You all right?" he asked, tilting his head as he contemplated her.

She smiled wider, so that whatever sadness had been in her eyes completely dissipated. "Never better. Probably one of the best days we've spent. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Undoubtedly." He nodded, returning her smile.

He wouldn't broach the subject any further, he decided. If it was a pressing matter, he was sure she would reveal it to him in her own time. Besides, there was so much more to appreciate about the day than not—it too had been one of the best days he could think of in recent memory.

Once the ship reached their destination, Valeria lowered the gangplank to give him leave to cross. As he walked across, he stopped when he didn't hear her footsteps following him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her standing on the deck, not having moved an inch.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to stay here for the night," she said. "Someone's got to keep an eye on the ship while Em and Lyn are out. I'm sure they'll be out late, visiting your town's attractions. Perhaps expose the locals to their repertoire of drinking songs!"

Braig chuckled. "I'm sure what tunes they know and what ones we know overlap."

"They more than likely do. That and…" She bit her lip in slight abasement, face reddening. "It may sound pitiful, but I'm one of those captains who gets homesick for her ship. I…I like to sleep out on the deck under the stars. All gushy sentiment, you know."

"Really? Looks good on you." He winked, breezily stepping onto the adjacent balcony. "In that case…good night, Val."

"Good night." He could detect a distinct note of fondness in her voice as she bestowed him with a soft smile.

And, though he kept his head turned, he could feel her gray-eyed gaze on him as he went inside. The dreams that night were sure to be ones worth remembering.

What could he say? The "gushy sentiment" had rubbed off on him.

* * *

"I must say, Braig," Lukas cheerfully pronounced, looking out over the lively crowd of well-dressed guests, "you've really outdone yourself this year."

Braig waved the compliment away with a light scoff and then adjusted the cuffs of his dark blue jacket. "I don't know about that. I mean, I hope I did! That wine was expensive as hell."

After a month-and-a-half's worth of planning, the biannual springtime ball was here once again. A regional celebration to mark the planting season and free for anyone to attend, undivided by wealth or status. Many Silverhurst residents as well as sister town Goldwood's had shown up in their best finery to commemorate the occasion. Casks of red wine from Goldwood's wineries had been sent in as well as various decorative flowers further south. Decadent dishes (roast goose, four types of quiche, and rich chocolate cake among them) had been carefully prepared and then refined to perfection from a team of skilled local cooks and bakers. And a musical octet was performing the most spirited jigs and sweeping waltzes. Everything he and Deckhart had arranged to the last lush detail. Exhausting but mostly worth the time and energy, if only to see the pleased smiles of the townspeople.

"Worth it, though," his friend pointed out, demonstrating with a sip of the deep red wine. "Besides, I checked—this won't destroy the town's account by any means. So, now that we're done planning all this, suppose we go hunting next weekend?"

"Hmm…" Braig stroked his chin. "It wouldn't be very exciting. All we could trap this time of year would be rabbits and squirrels. Buut, if we get closer to the mountains, we might be able to find an elk or two!"

At this moment, Lukas' wife Irene walked over toward them, resplendent in a long-sleeved olive green gown to match her husband's jacket. She had been another one of Braig's friends growing up and greeted him accordingly with a polite kiss on the cheek. And Lukas, of course, she gave a light peck on the lips.

"You men talking about hunting again? Is tonight boring you already?" she teased.

Lukas laughed while Braig replied, "Nah, just don't like showing off my money like this. Feels like I'm being a narcissist. And anyway…I'm waiting on Val. She said something about needing some extra time to get ready. All I know is she told me to wear blue."

Irene smiled. "So, Val's still in town? Good! She's been such a lovely addition here."

He went on to briefly explain how yes, Valeria was still around, and had settled in a nearby inn. She'd thought it would be a good middle ground between living with him and purchasing a house of her own. And while her crewmates hadn't taken up residence themselves, they still became frequent visitors and would stop by his manor every so often. She herself would stop in to chat as always but seemed to hide out in the library more and more as if it was her personal secret place ("It's probably the maps!" he speculated). What Braig did not mention—and what he would be too embarrassed to—were his misgivings about her staying in the in-between like this. She hadn't truly settled, and there was a good chance she would take off at a moment's notice.

The three friends did not have to wait for Valeria long, for she soon appeared at the top of the staircase. Braig happened to glimpse her at the exact moment, mid-sip of wine, and he found himself trying not to choke. To say she was a vision would have been a vast understatement. She wore a grand sleeveless gown of midnight blue tulle, complete with train and high collar. This gave generous emphasis to her firm, muscled arms and naturally long neck. She had left her chestnut hair loose, as usual, but pinned back around her ears. As she descended the stairs and made her way toward them, he had to remind himself this wasn't a dream. She stopped every now and then to graciously engage with other guests who either greeted her or complimented her. At one point, she laughed at something Deckhart said, with a wide grin.

When she finally approached them (exchanging hugs with the Frosts), she quipped to him, "What's the matter, Braig? Never seen a woman before?"

He exhaled his long-held breath through a raspy chuckle. "I appreciate a good, dramatic entrance."

"A response for everything, as always!"

"You're stunning," he complimented with a nod, pretending his jaw hadn't been near the floor a minute ago. And succeeding, he liked to think.

Valeria beamed. "Why, thank you." She stroked his forearm. "You look quite dashing yourself."

Irene cut in. "Your sense of timing is perfect! We were all just talking about you."

"Oh? Good things, I hope?"

"As opposed to bad things, Val," Lukas said dryly before elaborating, "We were telling Irene how you stop in to visit Braig's library quite often these days."

Valeria laughed a bit self-deprecatingly. "He does have an impressive library, among other things."

"Hem-hem." Braig cleared his throat. "You know what they say about the size of a man's library…"

"Well, now, Braig!" Irene pretended to scold, though her upper lip quivered. "There are ladies present. And we're all at a ball. Do try to behave yourself for once."

He shrugged his shoulders with half a smirk. "We're at a ball? I didn't notice."

"So, Val, how much longer will you be staying in Silverhurst?" Irene asked, ignoring his joke attempt.

Valeria seemed to ponder over this, nibbling at her bottom lip. "I'm…not quite sure. I do love it here, and I've visited castles before! I _have_ been trying to look for a sort of home base. I would have to get back to you on that. For now"—she turned toward Braig, giving him an amused look—"I believe we're here to dance, yes?"

He instantly got the hint, offering her his arm. "Shall we?"

Her responding grin was positively giddy. "It would be my pleasure!"

He did not feel that they walked so much as swept toward the middle of the floor, just as a jaunty tune faded out. The musicians soon started up a slower, more dramatic waltz as the two of them exchanged short bows. Placing one hand in hers and the other on her waist, he led the way.

"How many of them are staring?" he murmured, though did not move his head to spare a glance.

Valeria brushed her chin across his shoulder (giving him slight goosebumps in the process) as she discreetly peered around. As a matter of fact, many of the guests looked transfixed by them. Even some of the other dancing couples stepped aside to give them more room. And of course, there was all the pointing and sly whispering.

"Some," she reported dryly. "I'm sure we're not the main draw."

"Yeah, host of the party with a well-known sky pirate…How boring." Braig playfully rolled his eyes as he kept pace with her smooth steps. "You're an old pro at this! This bring back any memories for you?"

"Not really. Not any_ good_ ones worth any sort of damn anyway. I'd rather make new memories in this ballroom. It's got more charm, less stuffiness."

They continued gliding across the floor as the music played on, with the couples now joining in once their initial amazement wore off. As he led her along, he caught Lukas and Irene beaming at them as they clearly drew their own conclusions. They wove in and out of the other pairs, the music swelling more and more, while they spun faster and faster. He kept his eyes trained on Valeria's face, noticing the pronounced flush from her exertion and the way her eyes glowed from the chandelier lights. There was so much to study about her heart-shaped face, so many emotions to glean. He could gaze at her forever and never get tired of it.

"So, what did Deckhart say to you earlier?" he asked, leaning ever closer toward her.

Valeria smiled. "Oh, you mean the other mayor? He told me it was an honor to finally meet the famous Val Fleetwind in person."

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Fleetwind?"

"Oh, I never told you? I'm known as 'Val Fleetwind' almost anywhere I go, for my swiftness in my escapes. 'As fleeting as the wind', they say. It's a name that's stuck over time. Anyway, I was flattered by his compliment. I asked him if he was sure given my thieving reputation. Then, he told me it was no matter…I was living out his childhood dream! Imagine if he was like me, eh?"

Braig glanced over at his colleague and fellow mayor, trying to picture the older man as a pirate. "Can't say I could. Doesn't seem the swashbuckling type to me. And besides, no one could be like you."

For once, she had no quick response, only an affectionate smile. She seemed content to enjoy the romance of the moment, being one of many well-dressed people making the best of tonight. To forget about whatever lingering troubles on their minds and simply let the music carry them away. He couldn't argue with that logic and so allowed a moment to be just that for once. Thus, in that spirit, both of them spent much of the rest of the night being fully present: drinking, laughing, sharing light-hearted conversation, and dancing. Especially dancing. To onlookers, it seemed as though this magnetic couple could hardly stay out of each other's arms. To Braig, it was one more way to spend time with Val, given how precious yet limited it had felt as of late. However, as the ball was winding down, he realized he had lost sight of her during his mingling among the guests.

He approached Lukas, with whom he'd last seen her speaking to. "Hey, Luke, any idea where Val went to?"

His friend sighed in response, a slight crease forming between his eyebrows. "She said something about being tired and needing to turn in early. I believe that might have been half an hour ago. To be honest, I'm a little worried about her. She hadn't even touched her glass of wine when we talked, seemed rather distracted. I'd check in on her if I were you. Oh, and she was very pale besides."

Braig gave him a brief nod and a pat on the shoulder. "Thanks for telling me. That definitely doesn't sound like her. She wouldn't just ignore good wine like that."

Even as guests just started to leave, he brushed past them and hurried up the stairs. He looked in the library and then in her once designated room, where he found her standing on the walkout balcony. Shoulders hunched, she leaned across the rail, seemingly unaware of his presence.

"Valeria?" he addressed her carefully.

"I should know better than to hide from you at this point, shouldn't I?" she asked, letting out a raspy, almost choked laugh. "You have that habit of finding me fairly quickly."

When she still hadn't turned to face him, he stepped closer and stopped just within arm's reach. "I was concerned, was all. You made a quick escape there, like…Well, kinda like you wanted to be away from it all."

"Quick draw in your cleverness, I admire that ab—"She interrupted herself as she visibly tensed her shoulders. "Perhaps I should go. I've spent enough time here. I could sail to some new regions, new worlds. I would hate to be a burden on your hospitality for much longer."

He shook his head with a dry chuckle of disbelief. "Why would you say that? You've really livened things up around here! Like you've always been a part of the town, like you belong here. It'd feel a bit empty without you."

It was then that she turned toward him, and even if he'd halfway expected it, it was nonetheless a shock to see her normally grinning face pale and tear-stained. "That's the problem. I've become just as attached here. And then there's the fact that I've fallen in love with you."

The blood thrummed in his ears as his heart skipped several beats, as if he was back in school mooning over his first crush. It had been a long time since anyone had had that affect on him. Indeed, he couldn't remember if anyone had ever accomplished that, so preoccupied he had been with his ambitions. Now sidling up next to Valeria and getting a good look at her crestfallen expression, he hardly understood why her confession could evoke such sadness. He then looked outwards at the clear, starry night, frown unconsciously pulling at his lips. Somehow, it felt wrong to have these waves of joy wash over him while she stewed in misery.

At last, he responded, "I'm glad you told me that. But, maybe it's just me…You don't seem very happy for someone in love."

"I'm not in the business of torturing myself over matters like these," she retorted, a defensive edge in her voice. "Believe me, I hate how broken-up I've become. When I first realized I had feelings for you, I was thrilled. How perfect to fall for someone I could talk to so easily…"

On pure impulse, he laid both his hands on top of hers. "Then, what about this is complicated?"

She sighed yet looked him directly in the eye. "I've learned the hard way what it means for a woman like me to be serious with _any_ man. I've been burned before, Braig. Remember when I told you I've had my background used against me? Well, in one significant other's case, he wondered when I would come into my inheritance"—she again let out her wounded laugh—"as though my running away from home meant nothing. All I left my parents were a note and a braid of my cut hair to drive my message home. Of course there's no damn inheritance. I've surely been stripped of it by now. Then, another man I was very serious about…He wanted me to give up piracy for him and be his good, little wife and mother to his future children. When I reiterated that I didn't want children and still wanted to travel, he called me half of a woman for those reasons. It was a foolish thing for him to say, but I won't pretend that that insult didn't sting. Maybe it still does."

Even while maintaining his gentle hold on her hands, Braig internally raged over her mistreatment by these so-called men. He could not wrap his mind over why anyone would throw her away so cheaply, acting like they'd never even known her worth. Their loss.

_It's too bad they hurt her in the process_, he thought, observing how her face sharpened from the memory.

Aloud, he pointed out, "Sounds like that guy was a petty idiot."

That made Valeria smile with a soft laugh. "Oh, he was. I'd made sure to tell him off, even if I couldn't do that as well as I'd liked through my tears. But, it was still a drain regardless."

She glanced briefly away again, though it was too late—he saw similar tears swimming in her gray eyes.

"The truth is I'm bloody terrified. I'm not sure I can bear the thought of another rejection. You may like me for who I am now, but who's to say how you'll feel six months from now? Perhaps you'll tire of me. All I know is I will not compromise myself. I did that for seventeen years, and that was long enough. If I'm to be with anyone, I want to be accepted completely. As an equal."

Shuddering, she touched his forearm as her tears started trailing down. "I can't ask you to leave your home for me. I'm always going to want to travel. It's in my very nature, else I'll get restless. So, if you want to end this now before it goes any fur—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, let's not jump to conclusions here," he murmured, lifting a hand to caress her face and drive away those tears. "I definitely don't want to be mayor forever. It'd be nice to go beyond here and see other places. Those other guys might not have had the stomachs to have you call the shots, but I'd follow you anywhere, Valeria. And no"—he cupped her face with a reassuring smile when she opened her mouth in protest—"I'm not bullshitting you either."

"You and your mouth," Valeria replied lamely and reached up to keep his hand in place.

"If you really want to know, I'm crazy about you. You're intelligent, funny, gutsy, beautiful…I didn't know you were everything I'd been looking for in a woman until you showed up. I wouldn't change one thing about you." He twirled a strand of her hair. "Not a. Single. Thing."

Looking almost innocent in her amazed expression, parted mouth and bright eyes, she caressed his face in kind and whispered, "You love me then?"

"Am I really that easy to figure out?" he joked before turning serious. "I do. I knew there was a reason I wanted you around, actually, when we met."

Her relieved yet exuberant smile was one of the most gorgeous sights he'd ever encountered. "I did, too. Let's just say that…I may have agreed to work for you out of a selfish desire to know you better. You left quite the first impression, handsome devil trying to outwit me."

Braig chuckled, shaking his head. "How'd I know that was the reason? That's just such a Val thing to—"

It was then that Valeria threw her arms around his neck and gave him the most passionate kiss he'd received from her yet. When she smiled (almost grinning) against his lips, he could hardly resist smiling back as he weaved his fingers through her silky hair. He breathed in her lavender perfume, which reminded him of open wildflower fields. An intentional choice on her part, perhaps?

Breathing heavily, they parted but allowed the barest amount of space between them, and she whispered, "Another one of my signatures."

"Hm, what else you got?" he murmured, bringing her closer to his chest, with every curve of her body fitting perfectly against his.

With a playful rolling of her eyes, she hiked up her skirts and wrapped one leg around his. "Enough talking. You'll find out soon enough."

This completely undid Braig, who had no problems following her train of thought. He kissed her again as he lifted her high enough for her to wrap her legs around his waist, walking back toward her room. Rather absentmindedly, Valeria threw off the pins in her hair and fumbled with undoing the buttons of his shirt. Meantime, he had shrugged off his jacket at some point, his vest going the same way. Everything blurred in his feverish state as he let his passion get the better of him.

She took him by surprise when she gently pushed him onto the bed while he still struggled with the laces on the back of her dress. And in that moment, he saw her more clearly: her eyes smoldering with desire yet soft affection and her hair framing her face in tousled waves. He knew then that he wanted that view every night and morning for the rest of his life.

Cradling her cheek in his hand, he asked quietly, "You're sure you want this? Do you really want to be tied down here with me?"

She responded with a gentle laugh and a lingering kiss. "More sure than I've been about anything. Don't sell yourself short, love. I know what I want. I'm not the blushing young girl I once was, after all."

As if to prove her point, she pushed his shirt down even further to expose his chest and left several harder kisses up and down while massaging his shoulders. Holding back a full-on moan, he worked on her dress laces with more enthusiasm.

He cursed under his breath, still struggling. "Why do they make women's clothing so damn hard?"

"You tell me." She looked up from her ministrations to grin at him. "Allow me."

Together, they worked through this obstacle among other things that night.

* * *

When Valeria rushed back to the manor with all her belongings later the next day, Braig had the inkling that the next few months would hold some of the merriest days of his life. He could barely contain his enthusiasm that now bubbled over like the sweetest wine. Over these two months, he showed her even more of his world, his life, and all he held dear. No longer was he taking those solitary walks in the woods—he'd often ask her to join him. As loquacious as she was, full of consistent observations and quick remarks, even she had to step back and take in the natural beauty surrounding them. In turn, she introduced stargazing to him, pointing out constellations he had not considered and worlds waiting to be visited. He felt content in the knowledge that love of these ordinary wonders bound them together like the twin souls they were.

So did their love of family. Once the other Kelns met her, they saw her sparkling appeal as soon as he had. And the dinners he shared with her crewmates, her found family, were among the most memorable. Emmalia and Lynessa proved steadfast friends to his Valeria as well as him, if a touch nosy over seedier details that they diverted with winks and laughs. Of course, they indulged in these more intimate moments when they could, whether it was through laying outside to stargaze or staying in bed as late as two in the afternoon (the latter of which Lukas kept alluding to with a sly smile). There was no one's romantic company he would have preferred over hers, or she with him, he could tell.

In the midst of all this, Braig continued to stay active in his civic duties from ensuring the solar panel project fared smoothly to finally levying Penwick with a hefty fine after he'd passed out pamphlets with alarmist, false information. The man took it as well as expected but stopped his activities at least. He oversaw his councils as always yet found himself anxious for a real day off. He had an important, more pressing matter to take care of. Every moment alone, he even went so far as to rehearse, so that when the time came, he could utter the key words as smoothly as possible.

The weather had to cooperate as well, though nature proved much flightier. It rained off and on for five days straight, which almost seemed like a ceaseless stretch of drenching showers. However, one sunny midsummer day arrived at last, yet it began in mundane fashion. He walked with Valeria in the woods, making idle conversation. The topic at hand happened to be tavern disputes.

"And then I just stepped in between them and went, 'Look, you don't want to pull this crap in my town. And oh, one other thing. The woman you were both picking a fight over…Well, she just left.' Served them right!" Braig dusted his shoulders off with a proud smirk. "I think those men were too drunk at that point to actually do anything to me, so they went home, tails between their legs."

Valeria laughed, shaking her head. "How absurd! You did well to keep the peace, very mature on your part. Well, my problem was far less humorous, but it does have a happy ending…I poured an entire tankard of mead on that disgusting idiot's head! Least I could do after he ogled me all night, passed off spills on me as accidents when he'd wanted to see me wet. Ugh, degrading." She wrinkled her nose and then hand waved her anecdote away like a pesky fly. "Never mind all that. You are truly the rare gentleman who acted well and didn't try to take the woman home for yourself. Speaking of…I've never heard you mention _your_ past relationships."

He cocked his head at her, brow arched in bemusement. "I just don't have much to say on the subject. I've always been busy with being mayor and making sure my family was financially stable. Nights over, yeah, I had time for those but…I've had three actual relationships at the most, all short. Everyone knows everyone around here. Gets almost incestuous to have anything serious with a woman here, especially if I know her from back in the day."

"That wasn't a problem for Lukas and Irene," Valeria pointed out, smirking at this comparison.

He shrugged with a carefree grin. "They've always had a thing for each other, about as long as I can remember. That was inevitable with them."

"They clearly agree on a lot, because they've teased me mercilessly about us, I might add."

"Oh, me too! I think they're happy for us, though, for me too. They were worried I wouldn't find the right person, though it was no skin off my nose." He chuckled. "I knew I had time. Traveling was always in my plans. If I found someone then, I would, and if not, so be it."

Glancing down at her with a more thoughtful gaze, he added, "I didn't expect all that to come directly to me."

In an almost shy manner, she twirled a piece of her hair. "I was lucky that I tried to rob the right house then."

The soft smile that had been on Braig's face widened to a radiant grin. "Yes, you were. We both were. Who would have thought, huh?"

By this point in their conversation, they stepped out of the edge of the woods, with all the bramble and bracken, and into a meadow dotted with violets, buttercups, and other vivid flowers. Smiling, Valeria promptly knelt down and picked one, even allowing herself the pleasure of smelling it. He studied her, almost getting the urge to puff out his chest from pride. For, this location had been nothing but an intentional destination. He was glad that she enjoyed this place as much as he did.

_Perfect_, he thought before he touched her shoulder to draw her attention back to him.

"So, I'm not that great with speeches…," he started out, suddenly feeling a trickle of nerves.

"You're a mayor," she deadpanned as she rose to her feet.

"Yeah, well…heh. Different kind of speech." He grasped her hands. "I just know that these months with you have been some of the best ones of my life. I don't take that for granted. And there are just some things that…that I don't have to think very hard about. What I'm saying is once I make up my mind on something or someone, I mean it. No second guesses. I tend to be quick about it, too."

He noticed her looking at him, her head tilted to the side as she listened to his slightly (very slightly) fumbling words. The only indicator of her true feelings was the dancing glint of excitement in her eyes.

Rummaging in his pants pocket, he finished by saying, "I guess what I'm trying to say is I got something to ask."

When he dropped to one knee, he heard her give an audible gasp. And when he produced the small box from his pocket to reveal the ring inside, he saw tears spring to the corners of her eyes. She held her hand over her mouth though failed to stifle another delighted gasp.

Nonetheless, she blurted out, "Where did you get that?!"

"I'm trying to propose here, yet you're more interested in the ring," Braig teased. "Actually, you got a good eye. These sapphires did come from my safe! I had the jeweler put them on a band not too long ago. I figured I ought to show you I was serious by giving you the sapphires you tried to steal from me. It's the least I can do after making you work for me that first month—a lot of that clerical crap probably wasn't fun for you."

Valeria only let out a weak laugh as she leaned further to admire the ring, which he could hardly blame her for doing. Indeed, the jeweler had outdone himself by placing a hexagonal cut sapphire in the middle with smaller ones surrounding it on a silver band. Blue for the sky, silver for the stars. He had known when he'd viewed the result that this would be the perfect ring for her.

With her hand to her chest, tears flowing free, she choked, "You've rendered me speechless! Good job there."

He let out a soft chuckle. "Took me forever. Val, will you marry me?"

The words had barely passed from his lips when she eagerly held out her left hand. "Yes! My answer is yes! It's about time, darling!"

So overcome with emotion was she that, once Braig slipped the ring onto her finger, she practically leapt into his arms and kissed him hard. As usual, he was happy to oblige and then some. He lifted her off the ground, even daring to spin her around, while sensing stinging emotion in his own eyes. They laughed together, still kissing, before he set her down at last.

With a glance down at her new engagement ring, she said wryly, "Guess you're stuck with me now, eh?"

"Guess so." He ran a hand through her hair. "Can't say I'm complaining, though!"

She shook her head. "No, I'm not either. There's no one else I would be willing to share my life like this. I love you."

He pressed his forehead against hers, whispering, "Love you back."

This memory would stay imprinted in his mind for a long time to come, he knew as much, and he would make sure of it. Even if there was ever a time he had to walk through hell and back…

Unbeknownst to him or Valeria, however, that time would come sooner than they thought.

* * *

By the end of that week, all of Silverhurst was abuzz over their mayor finally finding someone to share his life with (and so soon!) and the future beyond the engagement. Would he continue serving them? Would he take off on the _Celestial Comet_, with his fiancée at the helm? Braig could only smile at the gossip around him as well as the more direct questions he received.

"Is that sapphire a 12-karat?" his cook Eleanor asked after she served dinner one evening.

Another question, posed by Roger Colburn, the bookshop owner. "Will it be a large wedding?"

And then, of course, Nicolas Gawain dared to ask at the tavern, "You mean to be a pirate too, now?"

All of these he answered in due course: 8-karat but his love for her was immeasurable; maybe a large reception dinner the following week; and no, he would not steal Val's job away from her.

They celebrated with friends and family alike over the next several days, talking of what the future would bring. The wedding would not happen right away, but they didn't intend to wait for too long either. By the end of the year, perhaps, close to Val's birthday or even early next year, though this was all still too early to plan. He was content to be with his beloved while the wine and food were freely given by their respective loved ones. All was well with their world.

And what was a more ideal way to spend one weekend afternoon than to lay out a picnic in the exact clearing where he proposed? The sun shone down on them as brilliantly as ever, with the azure sky stretching for what seemed like forever. He and Valeria sat sprawled out on a blanket and indulged in the treats that they'd brought along with them. Finger sandwiches, three different wheels of cheese, sweetmeats, small fruits, and naturally, wine were all at their disposal. She happened to rest on his lap, her head leaning against his knee while he fed her the occasional grape. Meanwhile, he stroked her hair once in a while, taking advantage of these more private moments.

Valeria mused aloud, "We ought to travel for our honeymoon. Has there ever been anywhere you've really wanted to see?"

Popping a slice of cheese in his mouth, Braig chewed thoughtfully before replying, "I haven't thought much about that. You're the more well-traveled one. I bet you got somewhere in mind."

"As a matter of fact, I do. Either we go to Montressor or this other world I heard about called the Destiny Isles. Or was it 'Islands'?" She furrowed her brows, trying to remember, as she tapped her hand against his knee. "No matter. You would quite like Montressor. If you think our world is technologically advanced, theirs is leaps and bounds ahead in that regard! Though they do have these things called 'robots' I don't quite trust…They could take over one day."

He guffawed. "Relax. I'm sure they're like our solar panels here: generally harmless and part of the scenery. I'd like to see them myself but maybe not right away. Those islands would probably be quiet and a lot more peaceful. Great honeymoon destination, I bet."

"Mm, yes," she hummed, closing her eyes as if she could see them there already. "That would be better, wouldn't it? No bustling inns, just a mere seaside cottage all to ourselves."

"No interruptions from Luke every five minutes either!" he pointed out before launching into an affectionate impression of his friend's gentle but firm cadences. "'We need to consider this year's harvest taxes, Braig. Get up! You've had your fun with Val'."

She giggled, waving her hand away by way of playing along. "Oh, shove off, Lukas! Five more minutes, that's all we want."

"And I do get creative with limited time." Braig leaned closer, teasing her lips with the branch of grapes.

She bit one off, licking her lips with a brilliant smile. "Damn right you do, and I love that. However, we do pick on poor Lukas too much. He has a point, after all. I may have been a poor influence on you, diverting you from your responsibilities."

Taking advantage of his proximity to her, he kissed her gently on the lips. "You're too much of a good thing to be a distraction. Besides, I was long overdue to have someone like you in my life. You've really taken the edge off things."

Valeria gave a content sigh, fluttering her eyes closed again. "I certainly hope so."

After a brief lull in the conversation, she pondered, "Suppose I invite my parents to the wedding? At the very least, this would be my way of informing them that their impossible daughter managed to find herself a husband. If only I could see their faces"—here, she brushed her hand across his cheek—"Son of a blacksmith? With new money? Why, that would be the Manigault scandal of the century."

"Or you could write them after the fact," he drawled, giving her a conspiratorial smile.

"Or better yet, we could elope!" She looked up at him with a wicked grin.

As if to emphasize her mischievousness, she reached for the opened bottle of wine and proceeded to take a direct swig from it. An amused Braig shook his head at this display, like he was incapable of doing that kind of thing himself. If so many of their days would be like this, full of humor and specific inside jokes, he could hardly wait.

"Hey, that wine was for us to share, you know." He tugged at a strand of her hair. "And did you forget about the glasses we brought?"

"I haven't, but I won't waste good wine, _especially_ good rosé! Let me have my fun," she protested, staring at him in mock reproach. However, her façade did not hold as she dissolved into giggles and fell back into his lap.

"All right, fine." He grinned back, eyes twinkling as he put aside the grapes completely and held her closer to his chest. "But, you know what they say: a sky pirate and her sobriety are soon parted."

"Bah, you," she carped, swatting at him once before giving him a fond smile. "Don't worry, I won't end up passed out on your bed again."

"No, we'll just end up in bed instead."

"Ah. I quite like the sound of that."

With that invitation, he leaned further down and stretched himself out. She wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer as she lay back on the blanket and started stroking his dark hair. Braig sighed, closing his eyes as he felt her caressing hands moving back and forth on his scalp, soothing as a cool breeze. This was his version of paradise.

He was ready to pursue a long session of kissing when he felt her stiffen. "Wait a moment."

Confused, he sat back up while Valeria did the same. "What is it?"

"Behind you."

Glancing back to where she was pointing, closer to the trees, he could just make out a large black swarm. The creatures looked too big to be gnats, even from this distance.

"Those could just be crows," he determined, though he wasn't so sure.

He stood up to get a better look, squinting against the bright, almost blinding sunshine. The swarm only seemed to gain more ground and—if he was not mistaken—race toward them. Their formation looked off, with this skewed funnel shape, not like any group of birds or insects he'd ever seen.

At that moment, he felt a lump form in his throat. Not crows. Definitely not crows.

Without hesitation, Valeria jumped to her feet and removed her pistol from her holster. She seldom went without her prized weapon, as he remembered her once telling him that she had been to deceptively safe places where she'd had to remain wary.

"I think I know of these. If I'm right, then we need to move. Now," she spoke firmly, voice leaving no room for argument.

Braig looked at her, gauging her steeled eyes and pursed lips, and realized that the swarm could be a credible threat. Looking back to the creatures again, he felt his heart sink. Rumors of these mysterious beings had reached him in recent weeks. But, they had been spotted in other worlds, ones much further away from here. He had distrusted these initial reports but now…

Why Cirragia? Why Silverhurst? Peaceful places with peaceful people who would never actively hurt each other.

Valeria interrupted his train of thought by pulling at his arm. "Are you listening? Braig, we have to go!"

"Right." He picked up his rifle that he'd thought of hunting with later (_So much for that…_). "What about all this—"

"Leave it!"

As they started sprinting out of the clearing, he wondered why he'd asked such an asinine question. Perhaps, on some level, he couldn't believe this was real. Only five minutes ago, he had been laughing and enjoying quality time with his fiancée like normal. Now, they—maybe the whole town soon—were set upon by malevolent intruders, their getaway picnic effectively ruined. No use in dwelling on that. All he did was run, keeping even pace with Valeria's short, quick strides, as they barreled down the wooded path. Trees, leaves, and shrubs blended into a green blur as they bypassed them. They ducked over protruding branches and leapt over fallen limbs. Beads of sweat rolled down his back, and a painful side-stitch made itself known on the left side of his ribs. Heart pumping with adrenaline, his lungs feeling like they were on fire, he nonetheless ran on.

Eventually, they made it to the brick bridge on the edge of town that would lead them home. Both stared over their shoulders and, much to their relief, found they were no longer being followed. Beams of sunlight streamed down without a shadow in sight. Cheerful birdsong echoed up and down the trail.

They burst into laughter.

"Maybe it was crows, after all!" Valeria remarked. "I could have been seeing things."

"N-No, I understood what you meant," Braig replied between gasps for air. "You can never be too careful, right? It could have been the wine, too—we were in that pretty good, you know. Oh well, at least we got some exerc—"

"Oh, _merde_! Get down!"

He readily obliged as she fired off two shots at a shadow creature with lantern-like eyes. Its head evaporated, with the rest of its body following suit. Blinking a few times in disbelief, he propped himself up on his elbows and gripped the butt of his rifle. Immobilized, he could hardly stand up for all the frozen shock that overcame him.

"Val," he broached, evening out his breathing. "Pardon me, but what in the ever-loving _fuck_ was that?"

Her face ashen, she explained, "Well, if I recall correctly, I've heard it referred to as a shade. My crew and I met these a couple years ago but…b-but they were smaller then. Smaller groups. Th-They've appeared to have grown much stronger and—oh, you've got to be joking!"

For the wave of these "shades" had caught up with them, hurtling down the dirt path and seeming to have increased in number. What had been thirty or forty had ballooned to a hundred, if he had to guess. He could also make out other distinct features, claws and antennae in addition to those unsettlingly glowing yellow eyes. There was barely any time to communicate next objectives, as they ran further into town. With the shades hot on their heels, it did not take long for people milling about the square to notice the disturbance and flee in terror. Their screams pierced the hitherto quiet of a lazy weekend afternoon. Mothers rushed to grab children, babies started crying, and men headed toward home to presumably take up arms.

"Please seek shelter!" Valeria implored, not that it took much convincing. "We'll try heading these off."

"No playing hero!" Braig chimed in. "I don't want any more targets. Keep your doors locked!

When everyone else cleared out and spread the word, he turned toward her, holding steadily onto his rifle. "I hope we know what we're doing."

With precise aim, she shot out a bullet that went through three shades' heads.

"You were saying?"

A manic grin lit up his features, as he tried his level best to stifle his worries for the time being. "Let's get these bastards out of our town."

Given the dire circumstances of how outnumbered they were, they fought the strange creatures as valiantly as they could. He opted for a longer-range tactic by aiming at those furthest away before pulling the trigger. The shades dissolved in quick succession while he repeated the process as rote: aim, fire, reload. Just as his father had taught him, only he'd never expected his sharpshooting skills to be used on something that wasn't an elk or a deer. Meanwhile, Valeria took a much riskier approach by engaging with the enemy up close. She darted in and out of the shadowy waves, with a practiced, almost graceful rhythm to her movements. When she had a few in her sights, she fired bullet after bullet, headshot after headshot. Braig soon copied her maneuvers in his own lumbering way, ducking and dodging away from the shades' greedy claws and gaping mouths. The couple met each other in the middle of the fray and stood back-to-back to shoot. Slowly but surely, they drove several of them back, a hopeful sign.

Mid-reload, he craned his head over toward her. "So, will traveling with you always be this much of an event?"

"Afraid so!" she admitted, extending her pistol arm. "Worse, actually. Em, Lyn, and I have faced our fair share of adversaries in our time. But, it'll sure be great to have you along!"

As was inevitable, they ran out of ammunition, Valeria first and then Braig. He took stock of the battle situation and felt an invisible hand squeeze at his heart with his assessment.

_Damn it. They've respawned._

Indeed, the shades appeared to surround them with renewed purpose, their number multiplied by twofold at least. All he could see were dark wriggling bodies instead of the square's cobblestones, and he spotted more dangling off the main fountain. He refused to accept all their fighting had been for nothing.

"Now what?" he asked Valeria, unsure if he could come up with anything himself.

He noticed she was clearly grasping for ideas as she looked around, near-frantic in search of some kind of loophole. When she glanced back toward his manor and then up at the sky, she let out a triumphant laugh.

"There!" She pointed at a familiar ship sailing overhead and now stopping alongside the manor. "Lyn and Em must have seen them from above. I knew they wouldn't let us down!"

"Great! I don't want us sitting here and getting slowly eaten alive by these creeps. Not my preferred way to die," he replied dryly.

"Nor mine, darling. Now, come on, hurry!"

They made a mad dash for the stately house just off the square, fending off the occasional shade in their wake. Valeria gave them a kick and a swift elbow, while Braig used the butt of his rifle. Once they were within safe walls, they wasted no time in securing the manor. He slid a fire poker between the door handles, while she started pushing the dining room table over though somewhat struggled. Swooping in to help her, he made sure that they finished the job together. Afterwards, she slid to the floor to catch her breath and otherwise get in some quick rest. If only he could have afforded himself the same luxury, but his concern caught up with him like his sore muscles.

Restless, he paced from one window to another, looking out across the grim scene. The shades had swelled in number even more, if that was possible, and had spread themselves out over the area. What they sought, he couldn't begin to guess, only that they posed a serious threat to his town. And they were hungry for something that his people had that could sate them. He did not want to know what that something was.

He then spun on his heel toward Valeria. "Is there any way we can fit more people on your ship?"

As if she'd been dreading this very question, she ran her hands over her face. "Braig…"

"Don't 'Braig' me, there's got to be a way!" he exclaimed desperately, flinging his arms out. "This is my town, after all. I'm responsible for every last man, woman, and child here! I can't…I don't want to leave them like this."

She gave him an unflinching stare, even as she bit her lip. "If I could load everyone on board, I would. As it is…It's just not feasible. I could fit maybe a hundred people topside, another fifty or so belowdecks. That's it. That's…That's not even a fraction of the whole town. I'm sorry."

His stomach plummeted, though he could not say this information shocked him. Reason told him that she had told him nothing but hard facts. And she would have done everything in her power to save Silverhurst if she could. At this point, he knew her too well to know how strong her will and compassion were. Besides, he noted with a sharp, guilty pang, she looked so worn-out already. Far would it be from him to add to it.

"We're just going to have to hope they can fend for themselves then," he stated with a resigned sigh. "And that doors and walls can keep those things out."

When she stood up, he approached her and placed his hands on her trembling arms, leaning his forehead against hers.

"I wish I could save them all, too," she whispered, drawing him closer.

"I know." He tenderly rubbed circles in her back. "It'll be all right."

_If we go down together, I can't think of a better way to go,_ he thought.

Their respite proved short-lived. The sound of several bodies slammed against the doors, again and again. Not out of desperation but intention. They broke apart, exchanging nervous glances.

"Well, break time is over," Valeria observed, tugging at Braig's arm. "Up the stairs. Let's go!"

He gave her a pale imitation of a smile and a nod in response. Once again, she reminded him of what he loved so much about her. Her take-charge attitude and just how capable she was under pressure. She really knew what she was doing. He felt comforted that he had someone like her having his back.

They charged up the stairs, aiming for the top floor. However, they had to take a detour over by the study when they heard small objects bouncing off glass. At first, he assumed they were rocks, but upon inspection, he saw a few gems dotting the outside balcony.

"Why here?" he heard Valeria murmur to herself while he opened the door.

"Long time, no see!" he called upward.

Upon hearing this greeting, Emmalia and Lynessa peered down at the couple and gave them vigorous waves.

"We came as soon as we saw them!" Emmalia explained. "They did not look very nice. Thought you two could use our help."

Lynessa added, "No time to waste. We'll just throw the ladder down."

"I'm sorry, but are you bloody serious?" Valeria stepped out from behind him, arms crossed in front of her. "That could be dangerous. Why not have us meet you up top, so we could use the gangplank?"

"Oh, sure, the gangplank, let's just invite them aboard," Emmalia scoffed before turning serious. "Those things move pretty fast. You saw yourself, Val! They can scramble across any surface."

Just then, they all startled at the splitting wood of the study door, as the shades kept crashing against it. One of them could not manage the job, Braig figured, but many…

He pointed out, "I'd go ahead and take the ladder. We're cornered now. You go first, Val, and I'll follow you."

With a huffy sigh, caught between a rock and a hard place, she relented, "Fine. Throw down the ladder, ladies!"

"Aye-aye, captain!" Lynessa saluted, straining to sound upbeat.

As soon as her crewmates threw down the ladder, Valeria leapt toward it and proceeded to scramble up it, like she had that first night. At the same time, however, the study door finally gave as yet another wave of shades burst through it. Mere feet now stood between them and Braig. With a backward glance, now near the top of the ladder, Valeria let loose a violent string of curses. He tried placating her with a wry grin.

"All the rotten luck, huh?" He let out a short laugh. "I'll say this for these guys. They know how to put up a fight."

On the deck, she looked down at him, chewed the inside of her cheek, and shook her head. "Just get climbing, you loveable idiot."

Braig did not need to be told twice, as unused to climbing rope ladders as he was. In his youth, his friends often compared him to a squirrel, what with his apparent ease with trees. Now that he eased his way up this obstacle, he found it much more of a challenge. He was not as light as Valeria, he knew that much, or as short and compact. True, he possessed a fair amount of strength but not the agile kind she had. Still, he forced himself to take it one rung at a time, in spite of the twisting of the rope and his own mounting weariness.

His fiancée and her friends cheered him on, half-playfully, half-urgently. "Come on, you can do it! Up, up, up!"

"Thanks for the support," he deadpanned but winked all the same.

All well and good until, while he was halfway up, the shades had joined him and chewed off the bottom rungs. With their added weight, it made an already difficult task much harder. But, damn it all, he would push through all that. He kept his focus trained on Valeria's face, knowing that this would be worth it in the end. Even as he could not help but think of his family, Lukas and Irene, their twin girls, and so many others.

Soon, he was near the top, and Valeria leaned down with her hand outstretched. "Grab on! Quick!"

Yet, all the while, the shades gained so much of the distance he had put between himself and them. He glanced back toward his beloved and saw the anxiety taking over her face. She breathed in and out, making so much effort to keep calm, as tears came to her eyes.

In an attempt to alleviate her fear the best way he knew how, he cupped her cheek. "I love you."

"Don't fucking say that like….," she trailed off but held his hand where it rested, holding back a sob. "Like you won't see me again."

"Hey, don't think of it like that. I love you no matter what."

With a strangled chuckle, she managed a soft, watery smile and murmured, "Well, in that case, I love you, too."

She then took him by the underarms and started lifting him, while Lynessa and Emmalia were on hand to assist.

When she brought him face-to-face, her eyes blazed with a determined light. "I'll be damned if you miss our honeymoon, love. I expect you to be there."

"Heh, what, as if I'd miss it? I wouldn't—"

All of a sudden, he felt his legs being yanked before he toppled over and away from Valeria's grip as if torn from her.

"Braig!" she screamed, trying in vain to catch him.

And then he was falling, helplessly falling. He registered how surreal this was, how close yet too far now from safety he was. Perhaps he was only falling off his bed to wake from the nightmare.

The last thing he saw was Valeria's pale face, with her beautiful gray eyes flown wide in terror.

_I'm so sorry, Val…_

* * *

**A/N: OK, several post-notes here, but I'll go through them as quick as I can:**

**-I originally wasn't going to include a love story at all, but a certain character standing on a window sill would not leave my head! Thus, Valeria was born. Also didn't hurt that while coming up with her name and everything, "Valerie" by Amy Winehouse was playing on a TV commercial. I just went with "Valeria", because I thought Valerie would be too modern a name for my purposes. **

**-In case anyone doesn't know, _merde _is "shit" in French. I decided to stylize Val's hometown as French-like for some reason (I was inspired by Orlais in Dragon Age, roughly). Even though she has a British accent. Hey, they get away with it on _Versailles_! **

**-This is similar to Second Twilight in that I too wanted Braig to have an everyman kind of background. However, this character's always been far from ordinary, so I not only made him the mayor of his town but have something about him that grabs people's attention. Hope I succeeded!**

**-Sky pirates, solar panels, some modern ammenities...I was trying to create a world you might find in a Miyazaki film!**

**-Yes, Montressor is a Treasure Planet reference-if you've caught it, well-done. That's how much I wanted TP to exist in KH, but oh well!**

**-To fit the mood of the last scene here, I rewatched the Ten/Rose separation scene in Doctor Who. Why I chose to torture myself like this, I have no idea, and it still gets me, too!**

**-And finally, next time (I would today, but I'm in a rush), I plan to put up links to my Spotify playlist that's like the "soundtrack" to this story (though more of a "songs that have inspired" it) and Pinterest board that is like my vision board for this story.**

**I'm so sorry for the delay, guys! I don't plan on the next chapter being near as long, and I don't want put either you guys or myself through a long wait after ending this on a sorta-cliffhanger! Til next time.**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hi again, everyone! Today/tonight also happens to be my bday-just sort of how it panned out with the update. I've finally written the Part 2 to my alternate interpretation of Braig. I agonized over this one, but luckily, not as much compared to the previous chapter. This is prob. where my inspiration from "A Second Twilight" becomes more obvious, but I hope I've made this quite a bit different enough. This installment, there'll be some familiar faces and a few cameos sprinkled in! A bit more dialogue as well. And I'll post a couple links below to things related to the fic, as promised last time.**

**Warnings: More cursing, mentions of alcohol dependence**

* * *

_Breakdown on the shoreline_

_Can't move, it's an ebbtide_

_Morning, don't get here tonight_

_Searching for her silver light_

_-_"Can't Get it Out of My Head", ELO

* * *

**Chapter 3: Braig: After**

When Braig came to, he did not recognize where (or _when_, for that matter) the Darkness had taken him. What he did see shook him to his core: a tiny pinprick star holding a world, so many lives, was extinguished. He remembered the morbid story from his childhood, as it had been told to all children at some time or another. Every world shone with its own distinct Light, which always had to be guarded. Kindness toward others, empathy, patience, and peacekeeping…Ideally, all of these virtues should be observed in order to keep the world's Light strong and radiant, so everyone had to do their part. If it should lose its glow even for a moment, Darkness would arrive with all its creatures and cloak the entire world in shadow. This was not so much a cuddly fireside bedtime story as much as it was a parable to children to never take the good for granted. One never knew just when they could lose it all.

That vanished star, Braig concluded with a shattered heart, had to have been Cirragia. But, he'd be damned if he was going to sit here and accept it. For some reason or another, the Darkness or Kingdom Hearts (perhaps both) had dropped him off at this place. Surely, he could find other familiar faces that had also been swept over here. He could not have been the only one.

So he spent the rest of the night searching for people he'd known in Silverhurst. As he wandered deeper and deeper into the nearby forest, he called their names, only to hear his own voice reverberate through the trees. Becoming ever more desperate, he called out for his parents, his siblings, his nieces and nephews, Lukas, Irene…

But, it was Valeria's name he screamed out the loudest and most often until he grew hoarse. He hoped that any minute, he would see her emerge behind the pines with perhaps a map in hand. As he adjusted more to the dark, he kept his eyes sharp for her soft, glinting gray eyes, her waves of reddish-brown hair, and the clever smirk that always seemed to dance about her lips.

He even imagined what she might say once they found each other. Maybe something like "What a relief it is to see you, darling! I've been stuck in this forest for a bloody hour."

However, there would be none of these words said, for he found no trace of her or the others. Kingdom Hearts would not have been so cruel. It could not have spit him out and abandoned him like this! Shivers ran up and down his spine, like cold, gnarled fingers tapping against him, as the first tendrils of grief came. His knees halfway buckled as he neared a stopping point. Once he did finally break down, he started beating his fists against the nearest tree out of unrelenting sorrow and rage. He cursed Kingdom Hearts, the Darkness, and even the Light for failing him in his hour of need. They could all go to hell for all he cared. His words were all he had to fight fate back with, even as he felt so useless, his throat rendered scratchy and raw from yelling like a madman.

Weary from this effort, he collapsed in heavy sobs on the ground.

* * *

Recovery had been slow, as was to be expected for a man who had lost everything in the blink of an eye. Braig was thankful, then, when the next day he stumbled across a town just off the edge of the forest he'd wandered. And in this Daybreak Town, he found friendly and welcoming people who asked no questions and took him in with such warmth. He took up residence in a boardinghouse, an appreciated hive of activity for his tired soul. Somehow, even as he remained polite yet distant toward his fellow boarders, he could not shake his need to be around other people. If he could see them go about their average lives and engage in banal chatter, he thought, he could seek some normalcy. He could almost forget that he hadn't always lived here, that he'd been so close to tasting a different kind of future…But, didn't those gray cobblestones look exactly like Silverhurst's streets? Couldn't he just as well hunt in the verdant forest reminiscent of his childhood woods?

However, these sights hardly brought Braig peace, and the first year was often a misery. Nightmares often troubled his sleep, when he would catch wispy glimpses of people he missed. Sometimes, he would wake up on the floor with the sheets twisted around him, half-convinced that he had reached out and touched those people. That he had saved them. Food crumbled to dust in his mouth. For the first six months of his new life, he refused to touch a hunting rifle, remembering how weapons had failed him that day. In his struggle to find himself again, he even forced himself to take up journal writing to record his pain. Yet, no solace could be found in his ramblings, and so many pages were tossed in the nearest fireplace. No matter how swiftly they burned away, he swore he could still see the desperate words emblazoned in blood-red letters when he closed his eyes. And one name. That one name over and over again, coming to him like a mantra. If he thought it enough, wrote it enough, would it transform into her silhouette?

Instead of dwelling on these haunting, unanswerable questions, he started to make the best of things. He became more acquainted with the people around town instead of being resigned to staying on the outer fringes. He resumed hunting every now and again. Often, he would venture out to other towns for further distraction but always returned to Daybreak Town, where he eventually found work as a bookkeeper. In trying to establish roots, Braig aimed for a quiet, peaceful life, the kind that so many took for granted. No matter what he tried, though, it was all a pale facsimile of the kind of life he used to lead so effortlessly. He sensed that, when interacting with anyone, there would be a forced, slight chill to his smile or a stare that lingered too long. When he spoke, he would still offer a wisecrack or an astute observation, but he kept them few and far between. And he'd outright refuse to frequent any taverns. For, if he drank for fun, would he ever stop? He knew he lived half a life, yet it was better than none at all.

However, over time, Braig dared himself to hope again when these young kids began showing up with intriguing key-shaped weapons. It wasn't so much the weapons in and of themselves that drew his interest (even if they looked rather odd), but what they could do. What power they could wield. Some of these teenagers would stop by at the boardinghouse for a quick bite to eat or a stop for the night. There, having this excuse to satisfy his curiosity, he would ask them his questions about these mysterious Keyblades, as they were called. And the teens—with maybe the occasional twelve-year-old—flattered by having a captive audience, would eagerly divulge. They were to contain the Heartless, the ones he'd known as "shades", with these weapons but also collect beams of light in order to maintain Kingdom Hearts' balance. For, more and more, it was careening toward Darkness, which could not be allowed to happen. All of these kids also had their Union leaders to take orders from and report back to. Braig could not help but find this idea more than a bit silly. If they all were working towards the same goal, shouldn't they all work together? Not be separated into these formal cliques?

One pink-haired youth he'd asked this of only hummed. "One might think. But, the Foretellers don't get along very well…It's difficult to explain, for I know they coincided perfectly fine before recently. Now, you'd be lucky if you can get any two of them in a room together."

"Hm, guess they didn't believe in staying together for the kids," Braig replied in true withering fashion. "I wonder what secrets they'd be hiding…Something to do with any special kinds of Keyblades, maybe? Any ones with special abilities?"

He hadn't meant to sound so direct, but he thrilled to the slightly avid smile on Lauriam's face. He'd taken the bait.

"I get it! It would be pretty neat to have one of those!" He coughed to compose himself, glancing down at his own rose-colored Keyblade. "Of course, I take no issue with mine. Yes…You're asking about the truly rare ones. I've heard it said you can travel through time with them."

Braig suppressed his own crooked grin. "Time travel, eh? How far back we talking? To, say, like a week ago? I know there was something at the market I wish I could have gotten."

A lie but a white one, in his humble opinion. Best not to let any Keyblade wielder in on what he had in mind. Personal business was just that.

"Feasibly, you could. But, if you're really curious about the stories…" Lauriam leaned closer, his blue-violet eyes gleaming. "They say you can go back decades with them, even hundreds of years!"

_Bingo, finally got a game plan! _He thought triumphantly.

Aloud, taking another sip of wine, he pondered, "Imagine the possibilities."

"I know! And yet, these Keyblades must stay rare, yes? Because if they fell into the wrong hands, their power would surely be abused." Lauriam frowned. "In fact, I doubt there would be anyone so pure of heart who wouldn't be tempted by one."

"Most people suck, you mean." Braig gave a sage nod. "I get that. In that case, we should hope they're being used for noble causes."

They'd left the conversation at that, but he finally had something to latch onto. Come hell or high water, he would get his hands on one of those Keyblades. And once he did, he would restore his world and then turn back time. Everyone would be safe and happy again, as it was before. He would be surrounded by his loved ones again. That was all he would need that Keyblade for, he figured. There could not be a much nobler cause than that. He understood Lauriam's apprehension regarding possible corruption, but he'd be different. Until then, he would still try to search for his lost loved ones, who he felt he'd neglected for far too long already.

And so, with this firm resolution, Braig set off the very next day. Uprooted once again, though he hoped this would be temporary. He wandered from town to town, region to region, and even world to world. No matter the endless treks through rocky paths or driving attacks from wind or rain, nothing could deter him from his goal. And along the way, he would continue meeting the Keyblade kids off on their traveling missions. Seeing what brave faces they wore and the warm camaraderie they showed each other, he felt the closest to moved he'd been for a long time.

However, the young people's lively chatter turned hostile the further away he was from Daybreak Town and as more time passed. They railed against those from other Unions, suspecting traitors amidst their ranks. Once in a while, he would even witness minor skirmishes break out, brief angry spats involving the clash of Keyblade against Keyblade. At this point, Braig was well-aware it was every man for himself, so it was best to keep his nose out of others' affairs.

Even so, as he focused on his own mission, he felt his mood sour again. He resented the Foretellers for playing dice with these children's fates, manipulating them into fighting adult wars. Sure, he'd never met them, but perhaps swift punches to faces would straighten them out. His faith in humanity had died down to a feebly burning ember. Darkness would keep overpowering everything, while people did not seem to care if they led to their worlds' ruin. Every night, when he lay under the stars, he could spot more of them vanishing. In the meantime, he had unknowingly stoked darkness of his own.

He was not surprised, then, when the Heartless confronted him again, as strong as he could remember them being. In the past, he'd known he wasn't alone. This time, with a triumphant smirk, he threw his rifle to the side and walked toward them with open arms. If darkness was to be his route to those he loved, he was ready to take that chance. Perhaps it was risky—even downright stupid—but there was no one there to stop him or call him on it. Braig considered that he could die for certain or wind up somewhere lonelier and more isolated than he could imagine. He'd seized an opportunity that presented itself, but lingering doubt made him wonder if he was making the right choice. After the Heartless wrapped themselves around him, blocking out his view of the sun, he felt himself sink into the ground. That was, if he could sink underground, for he could see no dirt or plant roots underneath. Nor could he see open sky or the trees. He was effectively suspended in air yet in a place too dark to see any part of his body.

All he heard was a voice saying, _The worlds are not done with you yet,_ and he felt his muscles loosen.

When Braig woke up again, he found himself staring down at a paved road from a strange angle. For one brief, shining moment, he thought he was dead and had come back as a ghost to haunt whoever he wanted. Why else would he be seeing things from above? However, as he leaned out further, he lost his balance and fell with a dull thud.

"What the hell…?"

He glanced up and saw that he'd fallen from the underside of a bridge. And with a quick look around, he saw tall houses of an unfamiliar style and people dressed in oddly casual clothes. Not a ruffle or flounce to be seen. He wondered what else there was to discover and how far in the future he had come.

"Thanks for nothing, asshole!" he shouted at the sky and shook his head in frustration.

Just when he thought he'd finally found a way to his goal, Kingdom Hearts had pulled the rug out from under him again. He had no idea what he'd done to anger an omniscient life force, but it seemed like it had it out for him. No matter what he attempted, he felt like he had been reset, leaving him no choice but to lead a new life, new occupations, etc. Well, then, if it took the rest of his life (or many lives, at this rate) to get everything in Cirragia back, he'd do it. No matter what fate had to say about it.

"Fine, have it your way then," Braig muttered in defiance, brushed himself off, and set off in search of someone who could help.

When a passerby directed him to the tallest, most elegant building in town (he couldn't believe he was seeing an actual castle!), he threw himself at the mercy of its well-known resident. As it turned out, he was the town's wise leader, a king wearing a scholar's clothes, right down to the fine red sweater draped around his shoulders. He looked down at him with kind amber eyes as he genuinely asked how he could assist him. For one instant, under that keen gaze, Braig wavered. Perhaps he could spill his true life story, blood and guts and everything, and see what this man could make of it. If they worked together in some capacity, maybe they could pave his way home.

Instead, he spun a tale of half-truths, of how he had tragically lost his family in a Heartless raid and had no choice but to seek out this town as asylum. After all, he was just a common man who had only known a rustic life as a woodsman. All the knowledge he'd ever gained had been through books and nature. He now had nothing but his wits and the clothes on his back—that, at least, was the complete truth.

When Ansem appeared moved by this account, Braig felt the slightest pang of guilt, though it felt as insignificant as a pinch on the elbow. He knew why he had to lie. It would save everyone in Radiant Garden a lot of trouble. Would they really believe that he was a man out of time, someone hurtled so far into the future that he could no longer look over his shoulder and see his past? He would be run out of here as a lunatic, with the torches chasing him down.

No. It was best to establish himself as a man with limited means and a story people could sympathize with. It would be easier in the long run, so that he could plan out his next objectives in private. In his mind's eye, he visualized the faint gleam of a mysterious Keyblade and the sparkling waters of the Emerald River. Always looking toward home. This place…attractive enough, inviting enough, but not home.

And so Braig spent the next four years with Ansem and his other colleagues, studying the crisscrossing intricacies of the heart. From there, they hoped to determine what made the Heartless and how to stop them from terrorizing more innocent people. He found among these men (and one child genius) a pseudo-family of sorts. If he was less cynical, he'd venture to call them a brotherhood.

He joked with Dilan about the silly, almost useless purpose of their guard jobs. In contrast, he approached Aeleus in a quieter, mellower way and spoke on more philosophical matters about the work they were doing. Even taught him how to use lab tools precisely without causing another mini-explosion. And little Ienzo he could not help but indulge like he once did with his nephews. He would share ridiculous stories from his own boyhood and even play the occasional game of chess with him. He would often receive eye rolls for his trouble (especially if his jokes got too corny), but he would also get amused smiles that appeared like rare gems. The poor kid had lost his parents young, so it was no wonder his smiles always looked so fragile. In a way, they were almost unnerving, like looking into a mirror. He could identify that brokenness just as he could a familiar animal track in the woods.

When he wasn't interacting with his new friends, Braig would steal away into the library to find material on Cirragia. His old world had almost become a myth from where he stood, but he wanted to feel it in his grasp through the weathered leather covers. Once, when no one else was peering through the shelves, he swiped a book titled _The Sky Pirates of Cirragia_. Within the bindings, he flipped through page after page of notable pirates, many women among them. But, then, one woman always stood out to him. The portrait showed her in more formal attire: a sportier indigo dress with gold outer lacings and a dramatic, broad-brimmed captain's hat complete with purple feather. She seemed to stare at the reader with defiant eyes, yet a playful hint of a smile crossed her lips.

Under this reprint was a caption: _Val Fleetwind_.

He kept the book for himself, for it served as the one thing he had to remind him. Late at night, he would stare at that picture more than he cared to admit, tracing the curve of that smile. At least her face could reside in his mind even longer—he worried that it had started to fade. A small comfort, then, that she could be preserved in this book.

And then, he met Xehanort, a man with his own agenda as well as his own Keyblade. Upon looking into this weapon's eye, Braig understood that _this_ was one of the legendary ones. He could hardly believe his luck, and Silverhurst now seemed to be within arm's reach.

Xehanort noted his hungry expression, saying nonchalantly, "It isn't easy to obtain a weapon of this caliber, my boy. But, I may be willing to show you how."

"Yeah." He gulped, almost speechless. "I'm aware what something like that can do. I just…"

"Require immense power, such as what this possesses." Xehanort's eyes gleamed in recognition of a kindred spirit yet a perfect pawn. "It's quite all right to admit it. Not everyone is comfortable admitting they crave power, when all of us are constantly searching for it. It's only natural. We all aim to rise above our stations, don't we?"

Braig narrowed his eyes. "You're pulling a fast one on me."

"On the contrary. I speak the truth…I see myself in you, the same ambition, the same cunning. Turn to me, and I will show you everything you will ever need to know or use. Turn to me, and if you prove yourself worthy…I will reward you greatly."

Xehanort idly switched his Keyblade to his other hand, and Braig followed that motion. The metal hilt glinted under the sunlight, with the tell-tale eye gazing at him. He thought he even saw it wink, but he could have been fooling himself. His hands shook. So close now…

He smirked, casually thrusting his hands into his pockets. "Say no more, old coot. What do you want me to do?"

This marked the beginning of a profitable yet contentious partnership between the two men. However, as Braig saw it, if you had to shake hands with the devil on the way to your destination, then what other option did you have? Especially if the devil threw in valuable bargaining chips to sweeten the pot. The extra money rattling around in his pockets didn't hurt either, even as he tried to ignore its filthy origins.

Of course, there were snags along the way. When he provoked Xehanort's new protégé Terra to battle as planned, he lost his eye (having been right-eye dominant, it was a pain in the ass, but at least he lived) and received a permanent scar for his trouble. Had the old coot seen that coming? He should have quit right then and there. Then, taking a moment to remember those Silverhurst market days, he decided to move forward with any and all future plots. No matter how low he was sinking.

He sold out his former colleagues time and time again without fail; eagerly volunteered part of his heart for Xehanort's twisted purposes; and moved people around like pieces on a chessboard to deflect suspicion from him. After the Keybearer Sora defeated him the first time, he had been faced with a monumental decision. Keep on going for another possible decade or cut his losses by letting go of Cirragia forever? Or, barring that, he could somehow gain more power. Hell with it, he'd thought, he'd gone this far, and so lived to deal another hand. People had said much about him over the years, but one thing they couldn't call him was a quitter. He would keep returning to the table until it all paid off, even if it meant a very long game.

But, there were consequences to playing the long game, ones he could not have foreseen. He disposed of his remaining conscience like waste, double-crossed what few friends he had, and encased his pesky, feeble emotions in ice. He stood for nothing and no one. There was no one he could turn to and ask, "Isn't this great?" every time he duped someone. In essence, he had cultivated a lonely existence for himself by proving he couldn't be trusted. He began to not trust himself when it all came down to it. Once proud of his scarred face with distinct eyepatch, he now cringed whenever he saw his reflection, in spite of his reverted brown eye and dull streaks of gray in place of the trademark Xehanort silver. Somewhere in the middle of all this, he had become a monster. The worst part? He'd known this and had been fine with it these eleven years. Indeed, he'd rejected his empathy and mental justifications so he no longer saw people, only obstacles.

If Valeria was to see him again…But, she wouldn't. She couldn't, for common sense told him she was long dead. And if, by some miracle, she was still alive, she wouldn't be able to look at him if she learned of his treacheries. He could imagine her disgusted grimace. Just as well if she stayed tied to the past.

All of this, the layers of grime to his sins, had hit him almost a month after the events of the Keyblade Graveyard. The various strategic maneuvers and roles he played had worn thin. He could only allow himself a bitterly ironic chuckle that he _still _had no damn Keyblade, not like it'd been a surprise. Regardless, one of Xehanort's past selves could have thrown him a reprieve or something. Then again, what did it matter? Braig had spent half of his life (the years he'd gotten to experience anyway) chasing after the unripe fruits of his ideal one. These days, he was forty-five years old, all but ignored by everyone he'd ever conned, and living in a cheap Radiant Garden hotel. Reduced to the life of a drifter once again, and perhaps that suited him well. It wasn't like he had much else…other than the crushing weight of overdue guilt and dreams.

Dreams or nightmares, Braig couldn't determine which. In many of these flickering images, he saw himself as a young man again with a certain woman he'd cherish forever. The more he fell into them, the more visceral they became and more acute than they had been well before the Xehanort business. He swore that he ran his fingers through the silken strands of her hair and felt her lithe body against his. Her soft, warm mouth would tease his open, and he'd drink her in. Every night, he would be short of making love to her before he'd open his eyes to see blankets he'd bunched up in his ecstasy. Thinking somehow they were actually her in his arms.

In the old days, he would have paced himself to sleep or even indulged in a few shed tears. Now, he felt emptiness, the sickening cold in his stomach that had felt that fleeting rush of heat. And that was worse. This had become his personal hell, experiencing this torture from a ghost. It only made sense that he relied more and more on the television to stave off sleep, yet he'd still receive these eerie, seductive visits. Kingdom Hearts had a sick sense of humor indeed.

That wasn't to mention the other nightmares he'd experienced of every one of his former comrades in science confronting him. These men who had accepted him when he'd been at one of his lowest points and let him find some sliver of peace…They would be there shouting him down, their faces red and livid while their eyes revealed melancholic disappointment. He couldn't face them, any of them, as the searing pain tore through his heart. What could he say? That it was never meant to be personal toward them, that he'd only meant to go home again? Then, why'd he feel so unclean, as if he'd committed a crime? Yet, that was exactly what he'd done. If he had known the fallout of his actions would be like this, he would have told Xehanort exactly where to shove that Keyblade years ago. If only he'd been a nobler man…And if he had to be honest with himself, he didn't think he knew how any more.

To drive away all these images, Braig would wander the outskirts of town and survey the craggy cliffs and deep valleys. Maybe once he got up the motivation, he'd leave soon. He felt like a restless dog confined in its cage, with all his pacing and simmering anger toward so many people and his own situation. Staying here only dug up unwanted memories and needless second-guessing, the latter of which he hadn't been burdened with for a long time.

Another place he sought to forget his troubles was a quiet little bar called Seventh Heaven. From what he understood, the proprietor once owned an establishment with the same name, but it had been ravaged by Heartless among other things. Tifa Lockhart had intended this new and improved Seventh Heaven to be a fresh start, for both her and other lost souls who had been torn away from their homes. Braig envied the woman's tenacity to move on from this personal trauma and thrive. After all, she had the privilege to push on ahead with her life by virtue of still being young. Whereas he had clearly gotten to and past the point that he could experience a real life again.

The taste of beer sufficed.

He found himself there one afternoon, when he knew he would be the only one. Initially, when he'd started frequenting the bar, he would get terrified glances from other patrons. All of Organization XIII had been notorious, but as the one-eyed assassin, he'd been among the most feared. He'd conceal his face with his hood, as per custom, but word traveled fast of his deeds. What a drastic change from his more sociable days in crowded, joyfully loud taverns. However, if he had to choose, he preferred the way things were now in this environment, where Tifa could leave him to his drinking. She'd been the one person here to accept him, granted after a reluctant fashion. As she'd put it, she had dealt with "rougher customers" in the past. Of course, if he put one toe out of line, she could (and would) throw him out. Braig respected that level of candor as well as the seriousness of that threat. The woman had the biceps of a well-experienced bouncer.

When he slid into a stool, she glanced up from cleaning a glass. "Huh. You're early today."

He snorted. "Good. That's way more convenient for me."

"So I've noticed," Tifa deadpanned, turning toward him with her hands on her hips. "Just be careful. You're turning more and more anti-social by the day."

Braig rolled up the long sleeves of his black shirt. "Hey, you're not gonna catch me crying over it. Let's just say the last time I had a social life, you probably weren't even born yet."

"Don't play the age card," she scoffed, though with a twinkle in her dark eyes. "So, what'll it be?"

He thought about ordering his usual lager, but that sounded boring today. Squinting slightly, he looked over the bottles on display. Did they even stock what he had in mind?

"Got any amber ale?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Tifa furrowed her brows with a light "hm" in response before running her finger across the labels. Why did that look so familiar to him? In a second, he knew the answer to that as he felt his stomach twist itself into knots. No wonder. The same reason he requested amber ale. He continued to watch her rummage through the selection until she pulled out a stout bottle with swirling rich brown liquid.

"This is one of those we get shipped in. Not too many people ask for this one…I guess you're looking to expand your tastes, huh?"

"Nah, I've had this stuff before." Braig waved off her remark before laying down a small money pouch. "I want the whole bottle."

She let out a huffy sigh but placed the bottle in front of him anyway. "That's quite a bit more than your usual, wouldn't you say?"

"As if! I know how to hold my liquor, I don't need a designated, and I'll get home fine. You don't have to worry about me getting rowdy. 'Sides, you're the bartender here, not me."

Tifa bit the inside of her cheek but maintained her stern gaze. "Just as long as one bottle doesn't turn into four or five…You know, I've seen your type before."

"My type, eh?" Braig raised an arch brow.

"Yeah. Older tired person who goes to the bar to cope. Friendly enough, chatty, but obviously has a lot going on in their life. Maybe some regrets."

Opening the bottle of ale, he let out a raspy chuckle. "I didn't come here for a free therapy session but thanks. So, you say I fall into this 'type'. Why? Is everyone who falls under that umbrella that obvious?"

"No." She shook her head with a slight smile, moving over toward the tables to wipe them down. "It's just something that comes with practice. You learn to read people pretty well with a job like this."

Braig grunted, raising the ale to his lips. Oh, he knew a thing or two about reading people, only he didn't have to be a bartender. Just a survivor and then a glorified cult member.

_Who am I kidding? _He thought. _Members get suckered in. I practically co-founded the cult._

But enough of the guilt trip. He'd come here to do one thing and one thing only. With a resigned sigh, he tilted his head back and drank long and deep from the bottle of amber ale. If he just closed his eyes, he would be back on that ship, tasting the breath of his beloved sky pirate…

The sound of a sliding stool next to him interrupted his reverie, along with a familiar sonorous voice.

"So this is what a life of existence has reduced you to."

With a sideways look, Braig sized up the speaker and almost had to restrain himself from yelling out his surprise.

_It can't be…_

For it was Xemnas sitting there with his even gaze and the faintest hint of a dry smile. He looked exactly the same since the last time he'd seen him. His silver hair was as shiny as ever, and his amber eyes still had that lantern-like glow to them—only no longer tinged with the yellow of possession. The one thing markedly different about him was the tan leather jacket that he wore. And that he'd just made his version of a joke. Braig forced himself to do a double-take, as his paranoid thoughts raced at near-frantic speed.

_No way. He should have died. The others are probably back to being who they were before, living their happy, normie lives, but he never really existed to begin with. The old coot said so himself! So, what gives? And why is he here anyway? How'd he find me? This has got to be a set-up._

All right, he had to play it cool. Xemnas being here didn't necessarily spell his death sentence. After all, he had become adept at keeping all his bases covered, avoiding any suspicious eyes. He'd have to flex his old acting muscles, but he'd manage. With another swig of ale, he calmed himself and delayed his response a little longer. He had this in the bag.

"Long time, no see, boss man!" he finally greeted with a bright smile, jaws straining from the effort.

Xemnas lightly snorted. "You seem as unflappable as ever, Number T—Braig. I would have assumed you would be more shocked at my presence."

"Why would I be? We've all been known to fade in and out at some point or another. Think of everything else we've seen! No, the _really _shocking thing would have been if you were gone for real."

"Hm, perhaps, you're right."

Braig winked. "It's the business I'm in."

"And not…" Xemnas gestured toward the ale bottle. "Burgeoning dependence on alcohol?"

"Hey, I know how this looks. You think because I'm in here alone with a bottle, it means I've become some sad, desperate drunk. Hardly. Everyone has their hobby—this so happens to be mine. Really, Xemnas, do you have such a low opinion of me that you think I'd let myself get to that point?"

"It was always hard telling with you," Xemnas replied with somewhat of a sneer. "On many levels. You were always the man of mystery."

At that point, Tifa stepped over toward them, casting cautious eyes at the former Superior but nonetheless remained polite. "Anything you'd like to drink, sir?"

"A glass of the darkest red wine you have, please."

"K, I'll get that for you in a jiff…Oh, hey!"

She then walked briskly over to a man sitting in the far corner of the room, where she proceeded to strike up some conversation. From what Braig could judge from her swift hand gestures and breezy tone of voice, she knew him quite well. And apparently, so did Xemnas, judging by his cursory glance back at him. This newcomer had stretched back in his chair, nodding every so often at whatever Tifa said, yet this laid-back pose was deceiving. For, he kept his arms crossed and assessed the other two men with intense, storm blue-gray eyes. And a rather sizeable weapon was strapped to his back, or at least something of which Braig could see the hilt.

"Who's the tough guy over there?" he murmured.

Xemnas lifted his hand toward the intimidating man, as if to indicate all was well, before answering, "Leon. He leads the local restoration committee, if you recall that, although I would say that their work is nearly finished. There are still some smaller projects to be done here and there, of which they've had my assistance."

"You, helping anyone not yourself?" Braig laughed. "That's a first!"

"Are you not familiar with the phrase concerning glass houses, Braig?" Xemnas rolled his eyes. "I will confess that I wouldn't have envisioned this path for myself, rebuilding houses and the like…But, I have found that altruism has proven to be quite fulfilling. I serve more purpose in that capacity than I ever did as Xehanort's puppet. However, Leon has lingering distrust of me, for which I cannot blame him. He insisted on accompanying me here, should I consider falling back to my former ways with you."

Smirking, Braig drawled, "Thinks I'm a bad influence, does he? Your new buddy's a smart man. I like that. So, why'd you decide to be a goody two-shoes? Did you lose a bet with someone in the void?"

"Hm, you are not inaccurate in your guess. I will simply say that it was either reform or stay in a sort of limbo for all eternity. No life yet no death either, only a bodiless awareness of darkness and isolation."

"That sounds shitty. I almost feel sorry for you."

Before Xemnas could respond, Tifa served him his glass of wine before heading to the back, leaving Braig to stew over all this information. It was quite a lot to take in. It was one thing for the man to be alive and his own person but doubly odd that he now fell into acts of "altruism". Being considerate toward other people? Helping to restore the town infrastructure? This was such a drastic change from the cold, calculating man who flippantly spoke of executions and wielded an imposing pair of laser blades.

_What's next? Is he going to go around town singing songs?_ Braig shook his head, gulping down more of his ale.

Aloud, he said, "So, I guess you're not thinking about getting the old gang back together? Probably for the best. I don't even know what we'd do any more."

"No, that's not why I'm here," Xemnas confirmed, taking a sip of wine. "Actually…I came here on behalf of our colleagues. They know you're still in Radiant Garden, and it is blatant you have no plans to leave any time soon. You've never been one for establishing roots, so this is indeed unusual behavior from you."

"And how you found me?" Braig found himself gripping the neck of his bottle more tightly.

"Not overly complicated, as you've been seen visiting here more often. I suppose you've given up your old habit of covering your tracks."

He gave Xemnas a hawkish stare. "Didn't think anyone was chasing me. And you were never that great about getting to the point. Mind telling me what you all want from me?"

Appearing to bide his time, Xemnas indulged in longer sips. He idly tapped his fingers on the counter with another backwards glance at Leon. Braig steeled himself by keeping his eye fixed on the liquor shelves—anything to counteract the steady thumping of his heart and twisted insides at the mere mention of the other former apprentices. Xemnas probably came as messenger to warn him of some elaborate revenge scheme they'd cooked up. And who was he to stop it?

Just as the silence started to prove unendurable, he spoke. "I think the others have long held a private pain over your fate, all things considered. And we always wondered about your origins, ever since Ansem told us—well, mainly them—of how you suddenly appeared one day. Recently, Ienzo noticed a book was missing in the library, right off the shelf of titles relating to an ancient world called Cirragia. Then, we simply pored over every book on the subject until we came upon your name."

Removing his hand from the bottle so as not to break it, Braig made a fist under the counter.

_Damn it…_

Xemnas continued, "You were a notable name in your day…several hundred years ago, it would seem. A philanthropist, one of the most popular, well-known mayors in your town's history…Even your engagement was cause for renown, to a sky pirate named Val—"

On impulse, Braig shot out his hand and clamped it down on Xemnas' arm. "I wouldn't finish that sentence, if I were you."

With only the slightest concentration, he summoned one of his Arrowguns, which materialized in his other hand. He kept it hidden under the counter, waiting for the right moment.

"Braig, we only want to help."

He growled out, "Yeah? You could have 'helped' more if you'd just stayed out of my business. That shit's personal. 'Sides, you shouldn't have even bothered. That world's ancient history, everyone I've ever known's probably been turned to dust by now…How about we don't revisit it?"

Xemnas' expression was blank, but his eyes burned with determination. "Stop your self-piteous moaning. And if you have no desire to remember, then what are you doing consulting a bottle of ale? Why did you make off with that particular book? I know very well to put two and two together. You have a sentimental longing for tha—"

Braig only strengthened his grip on the other man's arm, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Shut up. You had no right. I got one of my guns on me, and guess what, I haven't gotten rusty. Wanna see?"

He lifted the Arrowgun then, narrowing his one eye as he aimed right at Xemnas' head. The former Superior returned his stare with his usually calm amber eyes. Ever so slightly, he could feel his gun hand shake, but he tried to ignore it as best as he could. This man in front of him was just a clone, as certain a thing as the scar on his face. And he'd been so overconfident back in the Organization days, flaunting his laser swords and subtly boasting of his connection to Xehanort. This cocksure fake should have been obliterated ages ago. With a snarl, he withdrew his other hand from Xemnas' arm to hold onto the gun's grip.

Yet, in the back of his mind, he wondered what killing again would truly accomplish.

From the back corner, Leon had straightened up considerably, one hand going to his weapon. However, with a barely perceptible shake of his head, Xemnas dismissed him.

"It's all right, Leon. I know this man. And if I know him well enough, his threats will ring hollow."

Braig gave him an obscene gesture in response but dismissed his Arrowgun nonetheless. The moment of truth slipping from his fingers, he sensed his shoulders slump from overwhelming tiredness. If there was an off-chance that Cirragia existed again, he almost didn't want to know. He felt the burden of living through many lifetimes, dealing with that constant teasing glimmer of hope, only to lose it again. There was no way he could muster any more now; it was a waste of energy. Staring down at the polished wood stain counter, he felt that heated surge of rage evaporate, leaving him drained.

In a not unkind tone, Xemnas assured, "I would not broach this subject unless there were some developments. We searched for it on our virtual map of the worlds. It shows up. It has been restored. If you come with me, I can promise you will find out more."

Cirragia had come back, then? Had everyone else returned with it, or was that wishful thinking on his part?

A sizeable lump formed in Braig's throat as he felt the slightest tremor in his hands. Overcome with emotion, he rubbed at his eye as well as the bridge of his nose and settled his head right in the palm of his hand. It was as though he'd been thrust through several dark portals in the last five minutes. None of this felt real.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, voice thick. "None of you owe me a damn thing. Not after what I've pulled."

"As if we were any better, allowing our studies to consume us and render us greedy and contentious. I do not know if I can speak for myself, necessarily, but the others got to know you quite well back then. They know you have a great deal of good in you. And they haven't given up hope on you, not entirely. If there's a way they can give you peace, they will. _We_ will."

Braig shook his head at these words, restraining to hiss in pain like a wounded animal. "Stop. I screwed all of you over, and I didn't even feel guilty about it. Just did it so I could go home. I don't deserve this forgiveness crap!"

"Keep persisting with your relentless self-flagellation, and I will throw you back to your home world myself," Xemnas replied with a touch of dark, wry humor.

Still in half-disbelief, Braig choked out a weak chuckle. "Good point. This isn't my style. I just couldn't have called any of this. I was going to leave everything behind. But…I s'pose it was bound to catch up with me. Always does."

"Indeed," Xemnas agreed. "We all must own up to our moral failings. Burying them does little good. Does this mean you are coming with me?"

With a sigh and a heavenward glance, Braig drank the last of his ale. "Sure, why not? Not like I have much going on these days. I'll tell you one thing, though: if things start going south, I'm out of there."

The other man hummed in response, finishing his wine. "I cannot say there won't be some stern words. Be that as it may, this will be a long overdue conversation. Even you have to admit that."

"Yeah, yeah, just as long as I'm not maimed or killed, I'm cool with it."

"If you do, I'm sure it would be your own fault," Xemnas wryly commented as they both got up to leave.

Braig merely snorted in response.

Noticing they were finished, Tifa came back up front to clear the counter, wipe it down, and see them off. "Take care, you two. Don't get into too much trouble, especially you, Braig. I'm going to pretend just this once that that little stunt didn't happen."

She gave them a friendly enough smile, yet judging by her hard flint eyes, he knew she meant serious business. Internally, he cringed at how close he'd come to flying off the handle. For once, it was not a good feeling, rebellious renegade as he had been.

He let slip a disarming crooked grin. "Won't happen again, Teef. I know better than to get thrown out at your place."

"Good, you should."

Just as they were about to push through the doors, Leon stood up and turned toward Xemnas. "So, he's going quietly, then?"

"Yes. I thank you for accompanying me. I sensed he would prove difficult, and I did not want to be lacking in caution."

Leon nodded, giving Braig a sidelong glance. "Yeah, sure thing. Least we didn't have to knock him unconscious."

"It would have been a waste of our energies, I quite agree. I will see you later."

Once they stepped outside, Braig remarked flippantly, "Seems to me that Tall, Dark, and Surly gets along with you pretty well."

"Ah, that…I suppose we do. You are correct on that note. I said he still distrusted me, but it is not the case anymore. A minor fib meant to allay your suspicions. I would have thought you'd be well-acquainted with that technique. Perhaps you're not as savvy as you once were." Xemnas again revealed a light sneer upon making this observation before walking ahead.

Braig shook his head, with a roll of his eye. "Now I remember why I don't like you."

Xemnas' lips twitched into an unusually amused smile. "You ought to tell the others that and see how they react to such bluntness."

"As if. You've always been a smartass. Just keep rubbing it in, why don't you?"

And they walked on together, sharing a strangely renewed sense of camaraderie. Or, at any rate, Braig no longer felt the urge to blast him to oblivion.

* * *

He would have liked to think this was all going smoothly, making this little trip to seek forgiveness. However, the moment he glimpsed the castle's spires, Braig felt his courage flag as he turned to go back to the bar. Not to be deterred, Xemnas proceeded to grab his arm and frog-march him the rest of the way ("I did not choose to play the diplomat, only for you to flee like a craven fool"). They met Dilan and Aeleus at the doors, where the two guards gave him appraising yet unsurprised glances. There was a slight chill in their eyes as well that almost made him flinch. He couldn't be too disturbed at that—after all, with everything he'd done, this kind of reception was to be expected.

In contrast, when he looked upon his old mentor for the first time in ages, Braig was too tempted to look away. It was true that the arduous, uncertain years had taken their toll on all of them, but Ansem had clearly taken them the hardest. The lines on his face looked deeper and more furrowed, as though engraved. His blond hair looked paler, like the color of corn silk, with some whiter strands starting to poke through. And his orange eyes held a myriad of emotions so complex that Braig wasn't sure what this man thought of him now.

If Ansem still resented him, he didn't betray that as he spoke warmly, "It's good to see you again, Braig. They're waiting for you down in the lab."

Before he could think to tell him that the cordiality was unnecessary, Xemnas nudged his elbow, guiding him inside and on down familiar hallways. The guards followed suit. His memory jogged, he thought back to the times where he would stand in corners or even on the ceiling just to eavesdrop. After that, he would report some of these conversations back to Xehanort. He knew he'd shared chummier moments with his colleagues, walking down these halls, but he blanked on what they'd talk about. When hadn't he been plotting something?

And as they passed through Ansem's study, so much more organized now, Braig considered what a disheveled state they'd left it in the last time he saw it. Another memory floated back to him, of how he once sat with his feet up on their mentor's desk. He would shout out ideas while Xemnas waxed poetic on this new Organization they would create. How they'd shoved Ansem into a portal…He'd kicked him right in the back.

_Man, have I always been a bastard?_ He wondered, almost embarrassed at how little he'd considered that question.

When they walked down the short passageway to the lab, it felt like an eternity to him. He didn't know he was holding his breath until they rounded the corner. There, stationed in front of the gigantic computer screen, sat Even and Ienzo. Dilan and Aeleus took up their posts, on either side of the open doors, and almost making a point in displaying their weapons. Xemnas murmured a polite hello to the other two men, while Braig only stood, frozen. No turning back. If they wanted to kill him, this would be the perfect time to do it. He was surrounded by his peers, all reunited. Only this time, he was not launching into a spiel that could make everyone laugh, as in the old days. Everyone's eyes narrowed out of wariness and residual anger…except Ienzo's, he noticed. The youngest apprentice remained seated, glancing at him occasionally, while he pursued his nervous habit of flipping back his hair.

In contrast, Even stood up tall and rigid, as though looking for a fight. His green eyes blazed.

With a clearing of his throat, he spoke stiffly, "Braig."

Braig inclined his head. "Even. It's been a while."

The air crackled with tension until both men broke it, with Even commenting, "I see you still have one eye," at the same time Braig quipped, "You're not on fire anymore."

Once he registered the passive-aggressive tone, Even fired back, "Well, I never! I would suggest you be set on fire before going around making jokes!"

"And what? You thought my eye could just grow back? Or maybe I'll just go to the eye store! I'm sure they have my color, you pompous—!" Braig paused and then waved his hand away in frustration. "Who am I kidding? You haven't changed one bit. You were always difficult to argue with."

Even adjusted his ascot. "Touché. This is just asinine immaturity, and we have much to discuss. First order of business…"

He nodded toward Aeleus, who stepped forward with a cracking of his knuckles. With each firm step, he drew closer to Braig, who quickly put two and two together.

"Oh, fu—oof!"

He doubled over from the impact of the much larger man's fist against his abdomen, right in the solar plexus.

Trying not to wince, he grunted, "OK, OK, I deserved that. Point taken, big guy," before proceeding to tell Xemnas, "I'm out of here."

With a bored look, he lifted a hand and pushed against Braig's shoulder. "Do not be so quick to leave when you've only just arrived. This meeting was inevitable. The others have much to say. I'd advise you to listen."

"Fine, fine. Do you all have that out of your systems now? Anyone else want to take a turn?" He glanced around at everyone in turn, his eye sharpened.

Xemnas shook his head with a small smile; Even did the same with a sigh; and Ienzo murmured, "I'd rather not," with a squeamish look, still adverse to violence. Dilan muttered, "Tempted," though Aeleus clapped a hand on his shoulder, whispering, "I intended to get the message across once, Dilan." With a shrug, the dark-haired man stepped back, put his lance back upright, and assumed a more stoic expression.

Once satisfied, Braig said, "Good. And I'll keep the wisecracks to a minimum. It's only fair, right?"

"But, you understand our feelings, I hope?" Even now looked at him almost sadly, which felt somehow worse than his temper. "You hurt us, Braig, irrevocably. In ways we're still processing and coming to terms with. It wasn't simply the fact that you helped start the Organization but that you knew everything in advance. Everything! And yet, you kept those secrets from us so we could stay your pawns."

"Yours and Xehanort's," Aeleus added. "You'd struck some kind of deal with him, and whatever that may have entailed, it involved you selling us out. Not just once either. Multiple times. It felt as though we'd meant nothing to you, as though we'd always been the means to an end."

Braig started to protest, "I—" but found his throat too parched to speak. Instead, he glared at the wall in a pitiful attempt to block out these words, these facts that he'd been wrestling with for the past month. And they still weren't done—indeed, they'd barely scratched the surface.

"All that for a Keyblade?" Dilan scoffed. "Surely not. You're far too clever to fall prey to power lust. And yet, what else were we to think? You just kept on playing your twisted mind games while all our hearts were decimated. Sure hope your fancy piece of metal was worth that."

"Listen," he tried shooting back, "this was all going to be personal business. None of you were supposed to be involved! None of—"

The sound of a loud, forced cough interrupted him, forcing him to look over in Ienzo's direction. As for the others, who had prepared to start talking all at once, they fell silent and stared at the young man with bewildered, concerned faces. Even these years later, they shared that common instinct to shield him from any undue harm or suffering. Braig only felt his stomach churn.

With a steady gaze at him, his eyes welling with hurt, Ienzo whispered, "You _lied _to us. You'd said that if we could locate the darkness in people's hearts, we could expel the Heartless for good. But, in reality…it was the exact opposite, wasn't it? We were serving Xehanort the whole time. You told the others that Master Ansem had gone mad and needed to be dealt with. And they went along with it! That was how you operated. I-It was just lie on top of lie, turning friend against friend—_experimenting on children_, Braig! Children like I was…We trusted you! You fool…" His voice broke as he wringed his hands. "Why? You didn't want us to f-find out who you were and where you came from. Is that it? Why didn't you just tell us everything in the first place?! You wouldn't have had to turn to Xehanort or act on his plans. You wouldn't have had to become…"

_A monster. _His mind filled in the blank.

Struggling with saying anything further, Ienzo turned away and hid his face with a trembling hand. His shoulders shook and, as much as he tried to suppress it, audible sniffling could be heard. The sight nearly broke something in Braig. He could try to yell over the points the others had made, deflecting them over and over. But, there was no arguing with Ienzo, whose emotional testimony was pinpoint accurate. What he'd done to them—what he'd done to innocent children—was indefensible. Their cries still echoed in his sleep on top of everything else.

Suddenly exhausted, Braig placed his head in his hand, remaining silent for some moments. Whether he liked it or not, he had dragged these men with him on this self-destructive path.

Then, he lifted his head to address all of them.

"I'm not great at making speeches," he spoke somewhat haltingly, unconsciously echoing another pivotal moment from years and years ago.

Dilan raised a skeptical brow. "That's bizarre. I thought you loved to hear yourself talk."

"That's different," Braig clapped back. "I mean I'm not great at the long, drawn-out emotional shit…but I suppose that's how I got myself into this mess."—he flinched at Even's stern glare—"And, well, you guys, too."

Pacing about the perimeter, he elaborated, "It's actually a pretty long story, but I'll give you the short version. I guess you could call me a time traveler…except I don't think time travelers are forced into any random point in the future at will. That happened to me. When my home world was initially destroyed, I wound up near Daybreak Town. That's how I found out about Keyblades and Keyblade wielders and all that. And I figured if I could find someone with a rare one or, well, get one of my own…I could restore my old world and all the people I'd ever cared about. It wasn't about how much power or influence I held—at least, not at first."

Even hummed, scratching his chin. "Daybreak Town…But, that would have placed you approximately ten years from when Cirragia was destroyed!"

Braig sighed. "See, I never knew that for sure. I can't say that surprises me, though. So, I wandered for a while. Thought I'd find some people that way, in case the whole key thing didn't work out. I even walked into a group of Heartless, cuz I thought that would actually lead me somewhere"—here, he let out a bitter bark of laughter—"Nope! Good ole Kingdom Hearts said, 'Surprise, Braig, I'm taking you several hundred years more into the future!' and spat me out here. The Keyblade plan was back on. I thought that I'd been thrown so far that I had no choice but to go back in time. Otherwise, for all I knew, everyone back home was definitely dead by now. That is, if the Heartless hadn't taken them out first…That's what I'll never understand, how I got spared, and they might not have…"

"So, then, you met us," Aeleus stated, his blue eyes flashing pain.

"Yeah, and all of you were great." Braig smiled wryly yet knew he was nearing the heaviest part. "I felt at home with you guys—closest thing I _had _to a real home and family for as long as I could remember. Yeah, yeah, I know it's hard to believe that me, king of lies, wasn't playing you entirely…But, I really wasn't." He choked back what might have been a strangled sob. "Not before Xehanort anyway. But, I couldn't tell you about my past or who I really was. Because how were you going to swallow the fact I didn't come from the same time as you? That I'd had things going for me back hundreds of years ago? Good job, family, fiancée…Besides, I still thought that this would all be temporary. The only way was forward. And…And it was too painful to think about the past. It'd be like digging up old bones, right? What good was that gonna do? I didn't think any of you would believe me, let alone help me…"

Even said quietly, "We would have done everything in our power if you had told us the truth."

He winced, stopping his aimless pacing, as he crossed his arms. "I know that now. I guess I'd been so used to covering up everything up to that point that I didn't think it'd hurt to keep on doing it. I'm not saying that was right. I'm saying it was the only way I knew how to live. That someday, I'd go back to my _real_ home, though nothing said I couldn't have had two." He rubbed at his temples with another weary sigh. "You know the rest, all the times I betrayed you, all the other times we betrayed each other, those twists and turns. Look, I'm…I apo—damn it! I'm sorry, fine, yes! Ugh, not used to that. I know two measly words aren't near enough to heal the damage I did."

"That's a bloody understatement," Dilan deadpanned but still showed the barest hint of a smile. "At least you've finally come to that point. And saying those words is that hard for you, isn't it?"

"Hell yes," Braig chuckled weakly. "Probably haven't said them in years, didn't think I would again. So, the fact that you guys actually found my world and want me back there…Huh. I don't know if I would have been as forgiving. That's kind of beyond words. I don't deserve it."

He wore contrition like an ill-fitting suit, yet he felt strangely at peace with his confession. Relief washed over him. If he'd told them sooner, when they'd first met, who knew how things would have panned out? Perhaps he could have saved all of them and the other worlds eleven years of misery. Now, after unveiling his hidden history and seeing the understanding in their eyes, he thought this was enough. Even with Cirragia back, it wouldn't be the same.

Just as he was turning his back to leave, he heard Even reprimand, "Oh no, you don't! We've spent all this time researching you and your world, ensuring it has returned, and I will _not_ have you simply go like that, Braig. I will not! You need to hear this instead of wallowing."

Xemnas gave him a grateful look. "I have been fruitlessly attempting to emphasize this to him. However, I am not in the habit of yelling and flailing about, as it goes against my very nature. That was how this point needed to be delivered. Thank you."

"Erm…" Even reddened and scratched the back of his neck. "I'm not sure whether or not to take that as a compliment, but you're welcome, Xemnas. And you better be grateful as well!" He pointed at Braig. "Do not let our efforts be for naught!"

In response, he could only hold back his head and laugh, partly out of disbelief and partly out of genuine amusement. He was probably going to confuse them, but he didn't care. When he'd started to calm down, he felt another spasm of laughter coming on. He continued until the tears sprang to his eye and after Even stopped looking affronted in favor of worry.

"I know, that was weird," he acknowledged, wiping at his eye. "It's just…I never realized how much I'd missed you guys. I'd forgotten how fun our interactions could be. Never thought I'd say that either."

Their mix of eclectic personalities and the resulting clashes had grated on his nerves in the past. Then again, that was what being part of a family was like sometimes. He had been too arrogant and short-sighted to grasp that sooner. Or to appreciate how precious having that support system was. Judging by the tired yet relieved smiles on everyone's faces, they could sympathize.

Aeleus said, "We missed you as well, at least the version of you we came to know before everything went wrong. We had feared the worst, that it would be as much of a façade as the lies you'd told us. Yet, I feel I speak for everyone in this room that this isn't the case. You seem…rejuvenated."

"Maybe it's the alcohol." He shrugged in response.

As he turned around in his chair, Ienzo seemed to perk up too, in spite of the bloodshot appearance of his eyes. "And it isn't a question of deserving. We all shoulder much of the blame for our errors in judgment. It only puts everything you did into much greater context, even if it isn't all excusable. But, who's to say what any one of us would have done if we'd been in your place? You've been homesick, Braig. Wouldn't you like to see what we discovered, at least?"

Braig gave a rather apprehensive glance at the computer screen, where the enlarged map of the worlds was on full display. One green dot labeled "Cirragia" blinked, as steady as the rhythm of his pulse. Once they dove into the compiled research, it was either going to give him overwhelming joy or crushing despair. He was ready.

True to form, he made light of the moment. "All right. Lay it on me, nerds!"

"Happy to oblige," Even said before clicking on the dot.

He hadn't expected to see such a wealth of information presented to him. As Even scrolled down and then clicked to other pages, he saw so many photographs of a world he'd once thought was lost to the sands of time. He had to keep asking the others if these pictures were indeed recent and not from a bygone era. Their reassuring nods and smiles confirmed they were. Otherwise, Braig kept calm throughout this presentation, even as he wanted to exclaim out loud once or twice. There were the big blue skies that he used to admire; the snow-capped mountain range he'd seen from a distance; and the sprawling grassy fields intact. It was as though none of this had been touched by perpetual darkness or the dread creatures that had risen from it. But, one question still nagged at him: had any of this world been lived in since?

He got his answer when Ienzo commented, "Now, I suppose you're wondering about your town, if it's been restored to capacity. If you consider how many other worlds have been unlocked and restored to normal, some peripheral ones would…"

"Jeez, kiddo, don't keep me in suspense! Show me!" Braig could barely suppress his impatience as he exposed an eager, manic grin.

Ienzo shook his head with a self-deprecating smile. "They never want to hear the full explanation."

With a few keystrokes, he soon pulled up new images that Braig nonetheless knew like the back of his hand.

"The old clock tower! Wow," he whispered in awe, recognizing that town mainstay in an instant.

More slideshow pictures revealed the now completed solar farm on the outskirts, panels gleaming with a reflective sheen. The Emerald River shone as beautifully as ever, with gulls and ducks flying overhead. Houses and shops stood tall and proud, and front yards were full to bursting with rose bushes. And in several of these pictures, he saw people, his people. Many of them looked a bit older now, but he could identify certain shopkeepers and council members nonetheless. There was no arguing that Silverhurst had become an industrious, prosperous town once again, particularly when he found himself staring long at the square.

Vending stands had been set up, providing the usual wares from produce to jewelry to knitted hats. Prospective customers holding objects in their hands, either determining their value or to fawn over them. People standing around and talking animatedly. Children laughing and running about. The sights that he'd almost taken for granted as a resident, as these market days had felt so routine. After experiencing relentless chaos, after walking through the flames, he'd ached for these ordinary pleasures. To be able to go through the day and only consider the errands to run or what his friends had to share by way of news. How he could stop and take part in these conversations, idling away the hours.

"Ah." Even gently nudged Ienzo's arm. "Let me take over for a moment. Perhaps he'd like to see who the new Silverhurst mayor is. There's a decent chance he might know him."

Another click, and there was a relaxed, smiling man with a graying blond beard that hadn't been there before. He stood with arms crossed, surrounded by the bookshelves in his former study.

"Good for you, Lukas," Braig murmured, feeling a stinging in his eye.

So many years lost. He supposed it might not be too late to make up some of that time.

He squinted, still amazed that this was his old friend. "But, how…? Shouldn't everyone be dead by now?"

Even stood up from the computer to briefly touch his shoulder. "We formulated a theory. If we had to hazard a guess, we'd say that time works differently in the darkness realm. It's almost at a complete standstill, not to say that people stop aging there. They merely age much more_ slowly_. At any rate, it certainly explains why you can recognize several of these people here. Once their world was restored, they in essence were, too. I could show you the formula—"

Holding up a hand, Braig responded, "Nah, that's OK. It's enough to see them. Besides, you science guys always went in deep with that stuff, kinda gave me a headache."

"Hmph, suit yourself," Even snorted but smiled. "I hope this helped you."

"It did." He swallowed. "Thank you."

No more complicated treks or hastily thought-out ideas of where to go or what to do next. His way was clear, free from all obstacles. Finally.

* * *

After thanking his friends for all the hard work they'd done on his behalf, Braig was making his way out of the castle alone. Visions of Silverhurst now took on more tangible shape in his mind, of who he would speak with once he got there. Of course, he'd have to rest up first before making the gummi ship trip the next morning.

"Braig, a word?"

Interrupted in his train of thought, he turned to see Ienzo striding after him and panting from the effort. He waved a small, flat rectangular contraption at him.

"Almost forgot," he said, looking at him with a nervous grin. "I meant to give you this gummiphone. I thought we could keep in touch, should you need us, and we will certainly get into contact with you from time to time."

Braig took the phone, gazing at it with some bemusement. "This looks real nice, kid. But, you forget I'm old. Technically, hundreds of years old. I might not be able to work these gadgets that well."

"Oh, it's quite user-friendly, I can assure you! If _Sora_ can figure it out…"

He laughed. "The key brat has one, huh? Figures. Gets the best of everything, doesn't he? Well…thanks, Ienzo."

About to continue on his way, he found himself stopping again, with a glance over his shoulder. "Say, kid…I gotta say I'm surprised you'd go out of your way like this. I wrecked a lot of lives, but you got the brunt of it. It's all right to hate my guts, you know."

Ienzo let out a somewhat embarrassed laugh, twitching back his bangs. "All water under the bridge. Honestly. The best we can do now is secure better lives for ourselves, outside of light and darkness, but accept both of them in equal measure."

Braig chuckled back. "See what I mean, though? You're Exhibit A. You ought to go outside, hang out with friends—hell, eat some ice cream. Not be stuck in a lab all day coming up with philosophical junk. You're too young for that."

"I'm fine, Braig. Well, most days, but don't worry about me."

After a pause, he added, "One thing that struck me when we examined your past. The others might not have given it much thought, but it's amazing to me. You're still in love with her, aren't you? After all this time, everything you've been through, that's never faded."

Shocked, Braig felt the color drain from his face. He wished that he wouldn't look so startled every time someone brought her up, as though he'd forgotten her otherwise. Far from it. He would never stop thinking about her, but those memories had felt so private. He never thought to tell anyone about her.

Composing himself, he forced a laugh that sounded hollow, even to him. "You're right, but you _really _need to get out more. Oh, and a word of advice, kid: don't fall in love. Find the right person, and you'll never be able to get enough of them. Then, you start doing things you think are because of them, but instead, it's just you screwing up. It all winds up being one big mess."

"But, do you regret meeting her?" Ienzo probed.

The feeble smile slid off his face. "Never. She's one of the best people I know."

"You'll find her. I know it."

Braig ruffled his hair, a tendency from their experiment days. "That's quite the optimistic outlook, sunshine. I think I'll just wait and see. Take care of yourself."

With a casual parting salute, he resumed his stroll down the hall. He considered the notion that he ought not to treat Ienzo like the very quiet yet inquisitive child he'd been. After all, he was an adult, no point in sugarcoating the facts.

Regardless, he still did not have the heart to tell him what he had found out in that sky pirate book those years ago, information that had devastated him. The last two sentences in Valeria's entry still plagued him, so much so that he could recite them from memory:

_Her crew's last known whereabouts were on the Montressor docks, prior to departure. None were ever heard from again._

* * *

Gummi ships were tricky vessels, Braig concluded upon examining the various buttons and gizmos inside. If the option remained available to him, he would have been fine with traveling via dark portal again. But, what was life without taking some risks and trying out new ventures he wouldn't have thought of before? As long as he could shift this baby into gear…

All it took was a simple pull of the lever. Next, he turned the thrusters on with a press of the button closest to the steering panel. He felt jarred when he shifted the ship two more gears to take off from the launch pad. The sudden movement pressed him further back in his seat.

"Now I know why people don't like driving stick shift," he muttered to himself but allowed himself a smirk. "Just get me home, baby. That's all I care about."

At first, he didn't know what to think when he had to put the ship into warp speed. As he departed from Radiant Garden and the atmosphere, he started feeling light-headed. At one point, he worried that he would throw up. He was one more old guy who had to get with the times and be resistant every step of the way. Perhaps new-fangled flying machines would drive him insane.

However, he changed his mind completely once he got up close with the stars. The same ones he would stay up late and watch with Valeria, who'd looked at them with great longing. Up here, where he would have never expected to be, he now understood where her hunger had come from. His own ship (that he decided to dub "Fleetwind" on the spur of the moment) may have been smaller and much more mechanized than hers, but it was no less of a thrill ride. He rushed past other worlds and ships while peering with his eye at the navigation screen that mapped out his trajectory. Knowing that his peripheral vision was greatly limited, he hadn't realized how much effort this was going to take. Too many variables to keep in mind.

"Maybe they shouldn't have let me drive this thing," he mused.

By far, this was so much harder than aiming a gun. At least he'd usually have _one _target.

Rallying over the course of the trip, Braig grew somewhat used to being a multi-tasking driver and even enjoyed it. Soon, Cirragia was in his sights, according to his handy virtual tool. And soon, Silverhurst, where he planned to land on the outskirts.

Landing, however, would prove to be a challenge.

"Brake, damn it! Brake!" he yelled, racking his brains on what that Cid guy had told him back at the garage. Something about deploying a parachute? No, only during emergency evacuations…

"Ah." He pressed a big blue button that he recalled. "Braig, you idiot, don't die now."

The gummi ship pointed downward in a fluid motion as its speed slowed to a crawl. With his firm grip on the steering controls, he braced himself for impact, knowing that there was only so much he could do with a vessel without wheels. As he anticipated, it was not the smoothest landing. He felt quite a few jolts rock his body as the ship touched ground then slid for some feet. So much grass and dirt were disturbed in its wake.

When he got out, he released a shaky breath that turned into a rough chuckle and looked over the upturned ground. He knelt down to grab some of the dirt, the first thing from Cirragia he'd touched in almost twenty years. Sifting it through his fingers, he caught its clean, fresh rain-dampened smell. It must have done that yesterday or the day before, if he had to guess.

He'd finally made it.

Braig blinked back some tears he hadn't realized were there. And he'd be damned if he met Mayor Frost as a crying mess. He wiped at his eye with his arm, allowing this to ground him as he went about his next objective. He walked out a few yards but almost in a daze. The birds chirped as cheerfully as they'd ever done, and the radiant sun shone high in the early afternoon sky. Everything about his once peaceful existence came flooding back, though he knew there'd always be one thing missing. No use denying that, but he could dwell on that later.

As he approached a low hillside, he met someone who'd vaulted atop it at the same time. Could it actually be…?

But, no, that had been part of a recurring dream, too. He still was unsure when he'd wake up. His breath caught in his throat, while his heart performed a stutter-stop. No one else he'd known had that color hair, dark yet burnished with flame. That body was the exact shape as the one he'd held in his embrace countless times. And those gray eyes that caught the sunlight…

"Val?" he called out, hoping against hope that this woman was who he thought she was.

The woman's face went ashen as she blinked several times. Braig wondered if she would recognize him, given his deformities. Covering up his scar with one hand, he let slip his crooked grin.

_Please don't freak out…_

"Braig?" he saw her mouth, and then he heard that wonderful, crisp voice again. "Braig! Oh my gods, I—!"

He strode toward her at a quickened pace, as Valeria moved to do the same. She clearly wound up dismissing that idea in favor of running toward him. And she was fast! Before he registered what happened, she leapt into his arms, sobbing. The tears streamed unrelentingly down his face in kind as he buried his face in her hair.

"Hey, beautiful," he softly greeted.

"Oh, my darling!" she exclaimed, raining down kisses upon his ruined cheek. "Gone for so long, I'd no bloody idea where those dratted things had taken you…And now you've made it back here. You clever blighter! Y-You've come back to me."

"I tried my best," he murmured, rubbing circles in her back. "I did just about everything. Including some really questionable stuff along the way. Didn't mean to take this long. I'm sorry."

"Oh, come off it," she chided gently. "If we're to play that game, then I'm sorry, too. I ought to have found you sooner."

Braig looked down at her with some incredulity. "You were—? Hey, that should be my line! I was scouring the worlds for you."

"Then we were both looking for each other," Valeria sighed with a wry smile, tears still streaming down. "It doesn't matter now, who was looking for whom. At least I've found you in one piece—oh, shit, sorry!" She covered her mouth with her hand, her alarmed eyes widened.

He only gave a hoarse chuckle in response as he sensed another sob in his chest. "It's fine. I sometimes forget I have one eye, too."

She withdrew her hand, shook her head at his joke (like old times already), and burst out laughing. Unable to help himself, Braig joined in. They carried on that way for a minute, laughing and crying, expelling their pent-up emotions. Once some of this subsided, he drew her close again. "You are real, right?"

"Yes, only if you are. It would be awful if you were another dream. I've sure had enough of them," Valeria replied, leaning her head against his chest.

"Me too. It always was the worst feeling to have you there, only to wake up. Well, I came here flying a gummi ship. That real enough?"

"So, that strange vessel _was _yours!" She managed a raspy laugh. "No…No, I don't think I could have dreamt that. I would have imagined you in a hot air balloon, but I suppose that's just as outlandish. You'll be a pirate yet."

"Don't you think I already am?" He quirked a humorous brow at her.

Her responding mock pout was as Val-like an expression as he'd seen. "Please be serious for once."

More than willing to accommodate her, Braig cradled her face in his hands to get a good, long look at her. Through his still watery, blurred vision, he could determine that she'd aged as he had, though nowhere near as dramatically. And perhaps not as many years had eluded her, for one reason or another. A few more freckles had dotted across the bridge of her nose, and crinkles pulled at the corners of her eyes. Apart from the typical faint forehead wrinkles and more pronounced laugh lines around her mouth, she otherwise looked much the same, not that he cared much. No matter what she looked like, the fact that he could touch her again, hold her again, meant everything.

And what left him nearly breathless was the unwavering love and adoration shining in her eyes. No trace of disgust at how distorted his own features had become or how poorly he thought he'd aged compared to how generous time had been with her. She appeared as besotted with him as she had all those years ago, with her soft pink lips forming into a dreamy smile. Leaning in slightly, Braig felt so tempted to kiss her again but knew it was more prudent to wait. He then drew back a fraction of an inch. When he would relate all the details of his con man life to her, he'd know then if she still wanted him. His heart was sure to be fractured again. But, he would not be dishonest and presume he could reclaim her yet. If she rejected him after that, he wouldn't change her mind.

For now, he whispered, "I was beginning to think I'd never see you again."

"That had crossed my mind as well. I mean, logically, we should both be dead. This is actually quite ludicrous once you think about it." Valeria let out another little laugh as she started stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. "Hm, no matter. I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Particularly after being stuck in that horrid dark realm for twelve years."

Braig started, his shoulders tensing. "Wait, what? Twelve years?! I knew you'd disappeared but that's…How did that happen?"

"I'm afraid much of it was my fault, for being so obstinate. I dragged Lyn and Em on a wild goose chase off and on for two years looking for you. They say they don't resent me for what occurred and that they would have followed me anywhere. But, I felt responsible for tying their fates with mine, even if I wasn't rational." She looked up at him with sorrow. "I was racked with guilt when I'd lost you. I-I kept thinking there was more I could have done to buy us time. Or if I hadn't been so clumsy, or if I'd been stronger in getting you onboard. And the nightmares I'd have were positively dreadful. I-I k-kept watching you fall again and again and…"

"Shhh." Braig pressed his lips to her forehead. "You couldn't have helped that any more than I could. It was all the Heartless."

"That's what those damn things were called? How apt."

He chuckled. "I wouldn't be that angry at them, really. They were people once, too."

"That's even worse." Valeria shuddered and, once she seemed more settled, she continued, "At any rate, we ran into a bit of bad luck. We had just shot out of Montressor's atmosphere, when a whole swarm of those things attacked us. In their ships, if you can believe it. Then, we were sucked into a black hole and wound up stranded in the dark realm, as I said. We discovered these abandoned towns—or perhaps mirror images of ones in the light realm—so there was plenty to live off of. Still discouraging. No other people that we saw, no starlight…Just vast stretches of dark, empty space. One day, something major must have happened elsewhere to disturb the boundaries, because we easily fought our way out. And am I glad of it!" She gave him another wry smile. "Don't care how long it's been this side of the worlds, as long as I'm living here now. And I have you again. That's more than enough."

He glanced around them. "So, I take it your house isn't far from here?"

"Practically a stone's throw!" Brightening considerably, Valeria hooked her arm through his. "Come with me. You could probably use the walk."

"Oh, definitely! My legs are killing me."

As they walked together, with Valeria moving in eager, longer strides, Braig took in his surroundings every so often. The grasses bent under the slight breeze, causing the tops of the wildflowers to bob up and down on their stems. Sturdy green-leafed trees stood far off, like they always had. This was surreal. As long as he stayed here, he would no longer have to mull over the day-to-day plots with all their pain-staking steps. He wouldn't have to think about who to watch out for or who to sway to his side. With his world returned to its former near-utopian glory, he could live a more authentic life. The warmth of Valeria's hand kept him further tethered to this place. Not a dream this time.

Somewhat absentminded, he lagged behind, catching her attention.

Her initial concerned look turned into a beaming grin. "You still can't believe this is real, can you?"

"No, not really. This is almost too perfect." He let out a dry laugh. "I'm halfway expecting you to vanish into thin air at any minute."

With a sly wink, she reached behind and pinched his arm. "Last I checked, ghosts can't do that."

"Oh, ha, ha, Val."

"Believe me, love, this is real. And I think seeing the house will convince you. Ah, so here it is!"

They approached a little white house, which was less a house and more of a cottage. Braig felt his breath hitch in his throat upon the realization that he couldn't make this up. Any lingering skepticism he'd had melted away. Valeria soon excitedly launched into an explanation on how she came to find this abandoned cottage in a wretched state of disrepair some months ago, how Lynessa and Emmalia helped her fix it up, and how she'd grown fond of it.

"I thought it was a perfect location!" she gushed as they got closer to the house. "As much as I love Silverhurst, I didn't want to live in town. I need to be out in the open, appreciate the wind in my hair, decent view…All that. I guess part of me is always going to value my freedom. Of course, I'm not far from town, and I still like to socialize. But, I love it best out here. It's not lonely at all for me."

"You mean Em and Lyn don't live with you?" Braig asked.

"No, but they're close by," she replied, walking a bit faster. "They like to come over for dinner every now and again. After all we'd been through together, we'd decided to pursue our own lives, see how that'd work out. Consider us semi-retired! Em actually got married a while back. Lyn won't get married, says men are huge pains not worth dealing with."

"She's right, you know," he pointed out. "We can get up to some dumb, bull-headed things that we shouldn't do. We grunt instead of communicate like real human beings. Yeah, I get where she's coming from."

"I do too, but I'm not sure I entirely do at the same time. _Some _of you lot have redeeming qualities." Valeria stared at him with a meaningful look and a soft smile.

_I'm not so sure about that, sweetheart,_ he thought with a tinge of sadness.

Rounding a corner of the cottage, he spotted a flower bed that was in full bloom with yellow, lavender, and royal blue irises. A floppy sun hat lay nearby, almost like it'd been thrown down in a hurry.

"Your ship interrupted my weeding," she said, amused, behind him, gesturing toward the dirt smudges on her dark pants for emphasis. "I simply had to go investigate! Quite relaxing, gardening, probably my favorite new-found hobby. I'd like to think I have the knack for it, too."

He agreed, "You do. Those blue ones there look really good."

Valeria beamed at the compliment. "Thank you. I'm glad you like those ones, they're my favorites, too! But, I can't take all the credit for that. The florist just happened to gift me those seeds. Apparently, it's a rare breed and—" Abruptly cutting herself off, she waved away her oncoming rant. "Well, my gardens aren't the main attraction. I've kept something else that's rather special."

Before she led him right to it, Braig had a feeling he knew what it was. He'd sworn he'd glimpsed a mast protruding from behind the cottage.

Sure enough, the _Celestial Comet_ was "moored" only a few yards away, gleaming like a newly minted coin. Time too had proven quite kind toward her, although perhaps that was thanks to her captain. She was lashed to stakes on the ground, but the gangplank was down, as if ready to welcome travelers aboard.

Valeria rested her hand on the hull, which she couldn't resist fondly stroking. "I don't think I could ever give her up. We've been through too much together. I even swab the deck when I get nostalgic!"

He nodded appreciatively. "So this puts the 'semi' in semi-retirement."

"Very much so. I'd take off now if I felt like it. For now, I think we ought to climb aboard and appreciate the weather. Like old times." She patted the ship.

"Suits me."

Once he walked up the gangplank, Braig headed straight for the railing to admire the scenery. Even if they wouldn't send themselves into the sky, he nonetheless felt like he stood on top of the world, a sensation he thought he'd never experience again. He breathed in the fresh, wood-scented air.

As Valeria joined him by his side, he turned and quietly asked her, "Do you still like to sleep out here?"

"Hm, you remember everything," she remarked, smiling. "Yes, from time to time. I have to keep my back into consideration these days, though. These hard wooden floors don't feel the best. So, I bring out the mattress."

He gave her a fond look, laying his hand on top of hers. "You haven't changed much."

"Why? Was I supposed to?" she joked before sobering. "I feel like I have changed a great deal, actually. In subtle ways, perhaps...but only because the things I've been through tend to change people. I'm more grateful now. I try to appreciate what I have and not focus so much on what I lack. That's not to say regaining you hasn't been a joy."

At this, she reached up to caress the scarred half of his face, as if truly studying him like he had with her. Part of him waited for her nose to turn up or her lips to twitch into a repulsed sneer. He knew he should know better and trust her not to spurn him so blatantly. But, a chill coursed through him at her touch, one of dread of the moment she would view him differently. Instead, he saw her gaze at him in a way that suggested empathy, not pity, with what she imagined he'd been through.

She pursed her lips in a small frown. "If I may ask, how did you come by that scar? Or lose your eye, for that matter? Did it hurt?"

Braig held her hand against his face. "Nah, not much. The scar was just a scratch that never healed, that's all. And my face looks the way it does because…Because I fought my way through a thousand Heartless trying to save this town I passed."

His recent, easily pricked conscience tugged at him for the fib, but he attempted to brush it off.

_Hey, better than what actually happened, _he thought. _I can't tell her I got this face because I'd royally pissed off this kid._

"I see." Valeria nodded, yet he noticed her leery squinting. "Well, it sounds like you have quite the story to tell."

"Oh yeah, that wasn't even half of it. So, do you want the abridged version or the long version? Gotta warn you, though, the long version could take the whole afternoon."

She stepped up to perch on the rail in response, patting the spot next to her as she gave him flirtatious eyes. "I believe we have more than enough time to do things the long way now. I'd love to hear it."

"OK, don't say I didn't warn you," he said with a wink, situating himself on the rail and masking his doubts about this in the process.

He'd expected her to inquire into his deeds (and misdeeds) a week from now, not the very day of his homecoming. Then again, he should have known better to underestimate her insatiable curiosity. With that in mind along with his reservations, Braig started telling his story in full, beginning with his desperate nocturnal search for her. Tears already filled her eyes at that part, to the extent that she had to dab them away. Probably the last time she could realistically feel sorry for him, he assumed.

From there, he alluded to his time in Daybreak Town, where he learned of the great key-shaped weapon that could undo so much more than locks. He talked of Kingdom Hearts' indifferent nature when it came to him, how it had transported him through time, and how he'd been gifted (or cursed) with the ability to bend gravity to his will. As his story turned darker, he powered through relating those difficult last eleven years and how he'd committed so many subversive, traitorous acts against his friends. How he had sensed Xehanort was likely a pathological liar, but he'd allied himself with him anyway and freely surrendered parts of his heart. As far as he'd seen it, what else did he have to lose? Apparently, much more than he'd bargained for, but if it meant finally getting her and his world back, he hadn't cared about consequences. But, after a while, he hadn't cared much about anything at all.

"Truth is, I lost sight of what I was trying to accomplish." He cringed, running a hand through his ponytail self-consciously. "But, I still thought I was in control. That's not the easiest thing for me to reconcile, believe me. Or don't. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't."

Valeria had proven to be an attentive listener throughout, maintaining a neutral face and not speaking up once. Now that he was finished, he saw the worried crease between her eyebrows. She still seemed to be absorbing all this information.

When she did speak again, she commented, "That's…dedication, I must say. You put yourself through all that for me? Can't say I'd know too many people who would do that. And yet, so much of what you did…"

"It's not something I should be proud of, I know," Braig sighed, preparing himself for the worst. "Listen, nothing says you have to stay with me. We'll always have memories of the good times, so at least those won't be tainted much."

With a jump off the rail, she stretched her arms before pacing about the deck. He tried to read her face but could not decipher much. The sharp plummet of his stomach indicated to him her negative reaction would be a foregone conclusion. He'd been stabbed, shot at, beat up, disintegrated, and had felt a jagged piece of an evil old coot's soul embed itself within him. All of these life-or-death scenarios paled in comparison to the keen anxiety he currently felt watching her cover the deck with her pacing, deep in thought. She had no idea how much his emotional fate rested in her hands.

Finally, she walked back toward him, her eyes intense, yet a smile threatened at her lips. "You should know it's going to take a lot more than that to scare me off, Braig. I can't say I condone everything you did, least of which fighting children."

"Hey, they wielded some high-quality weapons with abilities that were something to see! They were great warriors."

"Still children," she retorted, sounding bored even as her smile became more prominent. "In any case, you seem properly apologetic for what you did. That's important, as long as you don't do anything of that nature again, of course. It makes me wonder how I would have acted if all that happened to me." Her face fell then. "If I'd lost you but then was forced forward in time. I barely knew how to cope when we were stranded. If I didn't have Lyn or Em…I probably would have done just as much harm, if not worse. I'd have gone mad."

Braig shook his head with a faint smile. "I'm not so sure you would have. You were always a stronger person than me."

"If we measure that in pure stubbornness, perhaps," she sighed ruefully before reaching for his hands. "I think I understand why you did what you did. You didn't make the best decisions, but who would in that situation? You were merely attempting to solve this larger problem while pushing your grief aside. And turning to the one person you thought could help, even if that person was a worthless, devious scoundrel. Although…I'm sorry, but didn't you tell me earlier you'd lost your eye slaying all those Heartless?"

Realizing that he indeed had opened an inconsistency when he'd mentioned his confrontation with Terra, he laughed weakly. "Sorry, that was kind of reflexive. The real reason was just really embarrassing."

"Indeed, it was your own doing." Valeria looked as though she was about to laugh. "That other reason did make for a better story, didn't it? But, I had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't true. Weren't you a skilled manipulator at one time? Where did that go?"

"Out with the trash, hopefully." He shrugged. "Besides, I was never that much of a liar around you. Never had an excuse, and, well, you see through everything."

"Years of piracy will do that," she said airily with an affectionate squeeze of his hands. "You should never have to lie to me about anything. You don't have to cover up or dupe anyone into believing whatever it is you want any more. You've found forgiveness with your friends. You're home. Those things matter above all else."

Once again, much of the wind was knocked out of Braig upon hearing those words. He had to look her more fully in the eyes, for he wondered how sincere she was. After all, how could she be so warm and receptive toward him? With a track record like his and what he'd exposed, she could leave him. Maybe she should. However, with her gray eyes brimming with so much tenderness, he almost had reason to believe their love could survive this. He found himself glancing away, feeling like it was too good to be true.

"I'm…," he faltered, at an initial, rare loss for words. "I don't know why you'd waste your time on me. I'm not the same man I was. You deserve better."

Valeria stroked his face again, drawing his attention back to her. "I'll be the judge of that. And I already told you how I've changed. Our experiences would mark anyone. I searched two years for you when it was within my power, and that might not seem the longest period of time…But, to me, two years without you felt like a decade. That pain was intense, not the sort you can recover from quickly either. Now that you're here with me, I have no intention in giving you up. So, don't try to talk me out of being with you, Braig." She leaned closer with her beautiful smile. "I've already waited too long."

Before he knew it, he found himself returning that smile while releasing a shuddering breath. His emotions practically drowned him. Contentment, some surprise, and, conquering everything else, overwhelming relief. He hadn't expected this sentiment from her, but he'd longed to hear it all the same.

"Can't argue with that logic," he rasped, holding her face in his hands. "I love you, Val."

She stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, "Love you back."

Thus, with his few remaining walls completely down, Braig captured her lips with his at last.

He made no attempt to temper his passions as he snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him. Every curve pressed against his body, like he'd remembered. Equally as strong, she clung to him with her arms around his shoulders. And when she let her hands explore further down his back, he lifted her slightly off the deck. All the while, they continued kissing, nearly bruising each other's lips with their shared enthusiasm. The years of companionship that they'd missed, that they'd each pined for, converged here. But, once he sensed the liquid warmth of her tears, hot against his skin, he eased up on his intensity. He set her down with a lingering kiss to her brow.

Valeria laughed breathlessly through her tears. "I'm all right, if you're wondering. It's only the fact that I…I yearned for this. You have no idea for how long."

"Oh, I think I have an idea," Braig drawled, kissing her lips again more languidly.

She wound her fingers through his hair. "I thought it'd just stay a fantasy. Or worse, we'd be here like this, and I'd go numb as if we'd never been together."

"I don't think we have to worry about that. I feel like I've fallen back into the groove with you."

"I do, too. It feels _exactly _the way it felt back then. Such a relief."

He smiled, pleased to hear this. "I couldn't agree more."

"You know we have much to catch up on," she murmured, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

No denying that Valeria was as witty and charming as ever. Their spark wasn't rekindled so much as it was reignited to a powerful blaze. He thumbed away traces of her tears while considering the double meaning of what she'd said.

And as he did, he smirked playfully. "I already got some suggestions."

Even though nobody else witnessed their reunion, Braig whispered just all that he wanted to do with Valeria, as though they were buried secrets. When, in actuality, he suggested quite intimate acts.

She raised an eyebrow, suppressing a few giggles. "My, my, haven't you become the hardened cowboy. If I was still a noble, I would chastise you for such language."

"Oh, really? How?" he asked, arms crossed, on the verge of laughter himself.

"Well, for one thing, you were being provocative. _Beastly_, even. That might require some punishment."

"What? Are you gonna tie me up?" He widened his eye for dramatic effect.

As she bit her lip to keep from laughing outright, she nodded. "To start. And I would be very, _very _thorough."

"I believe it. I'd be more than happy to...," Braig trailed off as soon as he'd glanced down.

A glint of a shiny object had bounced off the sunlight, momentarily dazzling him. The source was a ring on a particular finger of Valeria's left hand. Earlier, he hadn't paid much attention when they'd hugged and kissed, solely focusing on her. He hadn't thought to notice the metallic coolness of what sat on her finger. Sapphires on silver.

"You kept it," he breathed, taking her hand in his to examine her ring up close. "After all these years…You didn't even know if I was alive then."

With a soft laugh, she admired the ring again before glancing up at him. "I guess you could say my heart still believed you were out there somewhere. Or some mush like that. No matter the outcome, I've seen myself as good as married to you. There was never going to be anybody else."

"Val…"

He kissed her ring finger, her hand, and then her mouth once again. Preferring to take his time, he was less hasty and eager than he'd been. He only wanted to enjoy her, and now, he had the rest of his life to do that.

When he drew back, brushing strands of hair back from her face, he had one more question. "So this"—he pointed to his roughened face—"doesn't bother you?"

Valeria shook her head. "Not even remotely. If I was with you based on appearance alone, I wouldn't have stuck around like I did. And anyway, you always were brutally handsome. Sure, there might be a bit more brutality…" She stroked his face with the back of her hand. "But no less handsome."

Braig felt a genuine grin light up his face as he blinked back more stinging. "Trying to make me cry today?"

"Oh, we've already done that to each other, darling. Might as well squeeze out a few more tears," she joked but leaned her head against his shoulder. "Now, the only thing we have to worry about is watching this sunset. There's time enough for other pleasures."

He kept his arm firmly around her waist. "One of the best things I've heard all day."

They spent the rest of the afternoon doing just that, appreciating one more Cirragia sunset. However, this would not mark the occasion of an ending but a renewal. One he would not let slip away.

* * *

**A/N: I'll admit, I will miss writing a predominantly Braig POV. It was a challenge I thought would be intimidating, but I wound up having a lot of fun writing him! I also enjoyed coming up with the interactions among him and the other apprentice characters. I still find it really weird that all these games have come out, yet we've seen so little of their interactions together, either during the experiments OR after them. These were also things I'd wished some of these characters got to say to "Braig" in canon but obviously probably never will now-again, in canon. And I'm not as personally uneasy with throwing in an underlying love story...Writing those parts honestly made me quite emotional!**

**So, not much in the way of post-chapter "notes", but here are links to my little creative side-projects for this fic, if anyone's curious. I know FF doesn't hyperlink, but I'll go ahead and throw these in anyway.**

**Pinterest: maascorpfire92/never-miss-a-sunrise/**

**Spotfiy: playlist/3AOpjgtReGR67sDRsW3Nzf**

**So, it's Dilan next time! And don't worry, guys, he's obviously going to get more dialogue in my fic than he did in all of KH3, which was a whopping none. :P**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: OK, guys, here's your Xmas present, lol! I was hoping to update much sooner than this, but I'm glad I took the time to let this marinate. Xaldin/Dilan's one of those characters I feel like got an unfair shake in canon. The interesting hair, the cool eyes, the menacing-looking figure...This guy had potential! It's a shame he got sidelined in the games and is basically the idiot comic relief in the manga (which never made much sense to me). I had a pretty fun time trying to flesh him out.**

**For the song, yeah, going a bit obvious here...but hey, you can never go wrong with Cat Stevens. This probably won't be the last time I get punny with the old Org. members' elements and song lyrics either, fair warning. :P**

* * *

_"I listen to the wind, to the wind of my soul_

_Where I'll end up, well, I think only God really knows"_

_-_"The Wind", Cat Stevens

* * *

**Chapter 4: Dilan**

Shortly after Braig's departure, Ansem had given the guards the option to leave early. After all, if there had been any situation today that required immediate intervention, it would have come from the one-eyed sharpshooter. Given how relatively tame Braig had behaved, the danger had passed. Rather drained from the emotionally charged conversation, Dilan leapt at this dismissal with no small measure of gratitude. He had much to think about, almost too many thoughts to compartmentalize.

"Suppose he was lying to us again," he mused aloud to Aeleus on their way out. "There could be a chance he's going to move his operation over to his home world, and we would be none the wiser."

Always a succinct man, Aeleus said, "Then, he's their problem."

"That we unloosed on them! Think of the damage he's done, that he could do again. He's proven repeatedly that, out of all of us, he's the easiest to corrupt. And all you did was punch him? I'd have given him the thrashing of his life! Kingdom Hearts knows there isn't a more deserving candidate." Dilan compounded his venting with a frustrated shake of his head.

"You doubt him?"

"Of bloody course I doubt him! I…" He paused, recollecting those earlier moments where Braig had appeared near-broken from exhaustion. "Or maybe I don't, I don't know. His history…"

"His history shows that he was taking more into account than we thought," Aeleus pointed out. "He lived a peaceful, happy life that was stolen away from him. And, while he might not have gone about things in an ideal fashion, he was prepared to do anything to restore it."

"Yes, _anything_. That's the problem."

Dilan then fell silent as the two men mounted the last set of steps from the basement to the main hall. He balled his hands into fists, attempting to rein in his tumultuous feelings. There was no way he would allow himself to be fooled again. At the same time, he refused to consider the idea that Braig's kindness toward him had been one elaborate con job. Snippets of their good times rushed back to him, urging him to not meet Aeleus' inquisitive eyes. If he was naïve enough to believe it now, he supposed he'd been the closest Braig had to a best friend. They'd simply palled around in the day-to-day, swapping funny childhood stories, teasing Even (who quite detested it, as neurotic as he was), and often going to the bar. During one of those outings, he remembered how they had both shot well past their limits and had to lean on each other as they staggered back to the castle.

With one of his gravelly chuckles, Braig had remarked, "Wow, I haven't been_ this_ plastered since my propo—"

He stopped himself then, looking as if he'd seen a ghost. "Heh, never mind…"

Then, the following day on patrol, he'd asked, "Did I say anything stupid last night?"

To save him the trouble of reliving his distress, Dilan had joked, "No more than usual."

"Heeey, nothing said you had to get smart about it!"

At the time, it had been something to laugh off as well as to blame on their shared beer-induced fog. Dilan had assumed that he'd dreamed up that moment. It had been uncanny to see his friend so unnerved, almost vulnerable. But, now that Braig had told them his history, he had to wonder…

Had he accidentally referred to his fiancée? If so, then there had to be a grain of truth to that whole complicated story. It would make Braig look sympathetic…and honest.

He and Aeleus approached the end of the hall, with the latter commenting, "You've been very quiet, Dilan. Is everything all right?"

"Yes, yes, fine," he sighed, irritated, before admitting, "It's just…I want to believe him, Ael, more than anything. You see how I tried consoling the wanker earlier. But, we've been led astray by him too many times to count."

Aeleus nodded. "True. However, as foolish as you may think it is, I do have reason to believe he's sincere this time."

"I hope you're right."

Once they pushed past the entrance doors, they went their separate ways, Aeleus to the north end of town and Dilan heading two blocks over. In the past, he'd had no qualms staying overnight in Ansem's castle. However, post-restoration, he found himself ill at ease with being there when the sun went down. Certain memories and sensations could not be extrapolated from the now peaceful castle, at least not yet. And to his great shame, he would avert his gaze away from Even, who had been cold and ruthless as Vexen. It was true that when he was Xaldin, he had been capable of just as much, if not more, cruelty. Still, it was one thing to know this within oneself but quite another to actively witness it in a friend. He knew it wasn't fair to Even or the others (maybe excluding Braig) to view them in this light.

_All too much, _he thought. _It'll feel good to be home early for once._

Indeed it was. As he stepped through the threshold of his house, his gray cat Theo immediately sped toward him and rubbed against his legs. With a smile, Dilan knelt down to scratch him behind the ears.

"Miss me, did you?" he asked, appreciating one of the few living beings he could full-heartedly trust. "I know, I can't believe I'm home so soon either!"

Theo meowed his contentment before sauntering back to his favorite place on the front window sill. There, he stretched out to sun himself.

Meanwhile, he padded over to his room to change out of his uniform, which was beginning to feel quite stuffy. He picked out a sleeveless navy blue shirt and an old but reliable pair of blue jeans. He removed his socks as well as his boots, opting for a more casual look. After all, he had no plans to leave the house any more today, especially not when he had some business to attend to.

In that spirit, he headed straight to his oak writing desk in the corner of the living room. A fresh piece of parchment paper lay on top, ready to be drafted. Dilan hoped he could write out a decent one this time, considering how many discarded ones he'd already gone through. The halfway full wastebasket told the story of how well his efforts had fared so far. He supposed he could have made the task much easier on himself if he used a pencil or even his laptop instead. But, no, he had to make it look like he'd exerted some genuine effort on this letter. It had to look authentic, but most importantly, it had to be from the heart.

So, fountain ink pen it was, given his lack of a proper feather quill. He took it out of his jar of writing utensils and started a new draft:

_Your Royal Highnesses,_

_I have a matter of utmost importance to convey to you. My name is Dilan, member of Radiant Garden's royal guard on behalf of HRM King Ansem the Wise. __This may be hard news to bear.__ I do not mean to infringe on your likely busy time, __but I was __I went by a different name once. I caused you undue pain and suffering __as this individual__ when I was this person. I was Xaldin._

Dissatisfied with the increasing number of strikethroughs, Dilan muttered, "Rubbish," before crumpling up this draft as well. And here he had hoped this one would read better than all the others. There was probably the notion to consider that for the Beast (Prince Adam now, he'd heard) and Belle, ignorance was bliss. They didn't need to know of his existence or the thoroughly terrible "person" he'd been, keenly reminding them of what he'd put them through. Didn't he know that, above all else, the world order had to be maintained? Then again…

_To hell with the "world order", I need to redress this. They have to know Xaldin will never come back again._

Determined, he removed another sheet of parchment paper from the drawer, slapped it down on top of the desk, and tried again.

_Your Royal Highnesses,_

_I am a humble guard these days to almost anyone,_

No, no good, it would look vain of him to lay out his life story, even in this small way. This paper too was quickly disposed of. No matter, he would carry on with another blank sheet.

_Your Royal Highnesses,_

_I understand you have many matters of state to attend to, so I will be brief. My name is Dilan, a member of Radiant Garden's royal guard now, as I've almost always been. However, you may have known me under a different name, __one that struck fear into you one that was horrid in nature__. Xaldin, __right, I was._

With a growl of frustration, loud enough to make Theo voice his protest, Dilan all but tore up this draft. Now, he felt as though he wasn't even trying any more. Once the royal couple did receive an actual salvageable draft, they wouldn't have the jurisdiction to exact punishment on him. And, unless their world was in possession of a gummi ship fleet, they wouldn't be able to reprimand him in person. All the more reason to write a perfect letter. He wanted more than anything to show them how sorry he was, how—if circumstances had been different—he would have never thought to hurt them. Regardless, damage had been inflicted. Xaldin had been a despicable creature incapable of remorse and revealed himself to be a master of psychological torture.

Yet, how much of Xaldin had been a separate entity and how much had he been a manifestation of his dark side? A side he never knew went this far?

Dilan rubbed at his forehead, sighing wearily. It was obvious that he wasn't in the right frame of mind to write this yet. Perhaps some green tea would help. He pushed back his chair once he made this decision and went to get out the kettle. There were many thoughts roiling in his mind, and he hoped this simple act could center him.

_Maybe not the best idea to get to writing so soon after Braig's whole spiel_, he thought with another sigh.

Yes, Braig's story had been a lot to digest. He had also asked so much of his audience in terms of his credibility. Dilan knew he had no reason to doubt yet every reason at the same time. All he knew from his time with his friend was that he'd been fun to hang out with until he suddenly wasn't. He traced back to when that had happened. It had been a subtle change in Braig, who always had a knack for pretending nothing was wrong. When he'd returned to them one day with his lost eye and bleeding face, he'd had the audacity to laugh this off. He then told them that a pack of Unversed had attacked him, catching him completely unawares.

"Dropped my guns at the wrong time. Go figure. Just keep the mirrors away from me," he'd joked, though there was an undercurrent of bitterness in his tone.

Even though he still remained casual and laid-back in spite of this incident, Dilan had sensed there was something hidden, something sinister. Whether Braig would ever admit to it or not, that day forever changed him as well as their dynamic. He could no longer joke or speak freely with him, for he had the uncomfortable notion that all that would be used against him.

Given their collective, more recent correspondence with Aqua and Terra, this was generally confirmed: Braig had indeed been a voluntary henchman of Xehanort's during that period of time. It was no huge leap to assume that the rest of them had been sold out due to his actions.

And yet, Dilan considered as he set the tea kettle on the stovetop, there was another tidbit that the others didn't know. They never needed to be involved, as it had been a matter between him and the man he'd once called friend. He remembered that encounter with renewed clarity, though it'd been just two months ago.

* * *

"_Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey," he head a familiar voice drawl._

_Still groggy, Dilan blinked his eyes open, annoyed at having his rest disturbed. That annoyance soon turned into an ice-cold shot of fear that coursed through his entire body. His vision sharp and clear, he saw Braig—or Xigbar, in this case—hanging upside down from the ceiling. His one eye shone as yellow as ever, and his lips were stretched in a triumphant grin that further warped his mottled scar. A nightmare made corporeal._

"_Hey, Sideburns," he greeted with his old nickname for him. "How goes it? Have a nice nap?"_

"_Get. The. Hell. Out."_

_Xigbar waved a mocking scolding finger at him. "Is that any way to treat an old friend? I thought we'd all gotten along in our demented little family. I kinda miss those days, don't you?"_

_With a graceful backflip, he descended to the floor, his boots barely making a sound when they met the marble surface. No surprise that he could pull this feat off. A highly skilled assassin like him was well-aware that stealth was key. In the meantime, Dilan glanced around the room in search for his lance. Biting back a curse, he recalled it was stored in the armory. His transition back to a Somebody had been so taxing that Aeleus had advised him to go upstairs and rest in his old guest room. He wouldn't have thought to take a weapon up with him._

_However, there was still the night stand to consider…_

_Meanwhile, Xigbar shrugged at Dilan's silence. "Well, I get nostalgic for them anyway. I got a proposition for you."_

"_Oh, really? What sort? Knowing you, it would probably benefit you more than it would me," Dilan said more conversationally, stalling, while reaching for the drawer behind him._

"_Ouch. _Major _ouch. If I hadn't gotten rid of my heart again so soon, I'd be hurting." Xigbar smirked._

_The drawer was just barely open, leaving enough space to scrounge around with his hand. He could feel the smooth, cool metal of a pistol. Just as he thought. His lingering paranoia in the experiment days would serve him well._

_In one fluid motion, Dilan aimed the pistol right at his former comrade. "Now, don't come any closer."_

_Unimpressed, Xigbar feigned a yawn. "Sideburns, don't be an idiot. You know I can outshoot you if I really wanted to. And I really don't. 'Sides, I've been instructed not to kill you."_

"_By whom? Xemnas?" He made no move to lower his arm._

"_Never you mind about that. Aren't you going to at least listen to what I have to say?"_

"_Why should I?" Dilan hissed though lowered the weapon a couple inches. "I don't think we have much that bears discussing."_

"_Oh, but we do," Xigbar sneered, putting his foot up on the bed's baseboard. "I'm not saying you should listen to me because you like me. I'm saying I'm the only thing standing between you and the others downstairs. Now, if you stop pointing that at me and not make a scene, there shouldn't be any more drama. I'd hate to leave a big mess behind when I go."_

"_Damn it." Dilan put the pistol back in the drawer._

_The other man gave him another wicked, manic grin. "Good. Now that we got that out of the way, here's what I'm offering. I think you're going to find real quick that having your heart back isn't what it's cut out to be. I mean, pain, anguish, guilt…" He made a face at this last one. "You're going to put yourself through the wringer. So, as I see it, you got one of two choices. Either stay human and miserable or join back with us. You don't wanna be on the losing side, do you?"_

_Narrowing his eyes, Dilan studied him, staying perched right by the bed, with his Arrowguns crossed on his knee. His grin was intact, as smug as always. He looked so sure that he would go through that hell again. He might not have had his heart back for very long, but he could remember vividly all that he did as Xaldin. How he'd twisted people's emotions, how he'd manipulated a young couple's love for one another. How he was tasked with doling out threats if the other Organization members wouldn't comply. That Nobody had been a warped version of him, and he never wanted to reacquaint himself with that side ever again. Only a few hours had passed, but he'd already come to that resounding conclusion._

_However, instead of verbalizing his refusal right away, Dilan continued to humor him. _

"_Why me? Even is in a similar weakened state at the moment. You mean to tell me you didn't try recruiting him?"_

_Xigbar held back his head and laughed. "That kooky nerd? As if! Maybe if we wanted somebody to annoy us to death, we'd pick him in a heartbeat. Nah, I've been here once already and got a good one that time. Only thing is, he could still turn. That was a serious bromance he had back in the day…"_

"_Get to the point."_

"_Rude!" Xigbar put a hand to his chest, faking hurt offense. "Are you sure you're still not Xaldin? Look, we could use a guy like you out on the field. Tough, uncompromising, more than a little bloodthirsty—you'd be a great spare!"_

"_Out of the question. If all you're looking for is another servant to do your bidding, then I'm not interested. Speaking of…" He put a finger to his chin. "Isn't that what you are, at the end of the day? A servant doing his master's bidding?"_

_Visibly irritated, Xigbar clenched his jaw, his grin sliding. "Oh, you're _daring_ today, Sideburns. You're practically bedridden right now, and you talk like that to me. Think about what I'm offering here. You can do whatever you want guilt-free, have more power, and—best part, in my humble opinion—you can take your revenge on the key brat. You're not getting a better deal than this."_

"_And I'm telling you I'm ready to reject all that. The only reason you're here is you need an extra pair of hands to fight in your idiotic war. You're even willing to use our old friendship to talk me into it. And why, I wonder? Are things getting a little lonely at the top, Braig?"_

_Now, Xigbar outright snarled, "Don't bother saying that name. I'm_ never _going back to that again. Braig was a pathetic leech getting nowhere with his life. At least I have a purpo—"_

"_Braig was a decent friend," Dilan sighed. "And he would have never pulled this."_

"_How would you know?" he hissed back. "That version of me would have done anything to make a little chump change."_

_Dilan smiled sadly. "I don't know for sure. But, I like to think he cared about us in some way once. It's as you said—we were like a family, odd as we were. That's not something you toss away."_

"_I could right now, you know," Xigbar insisted, holding up both Arrowguns for emphasis, eye narrowing. "All I need is one shot. Orders weren't that strict. I'm sure my guys wouldn't care much."_

"_No, but mine will. Besides, I thought you didn't want to leave a mess."_

"_That was before—OK, you know what? Forget about it. Have fun with that broken heart of yours when _we win_."_

_Xigbar unceremoniously stepped back from the bed and turned to create a dark portal out of the room. However, there were a few things left that needed to be addressed._

"_When you pare everything down to winning or losing, haven't you already lost?" Dilan asked. "I mean, honestly, what does that say about you and how you're living your life?"_

_Unable to resist a chance to talk back, Xigbar glared at him over his shoulder. "One, I'm technically non-existent, so I don't have a life. Two, spare me the philosophical crap, man. It's not relevant."_

"_But, if you weren't serving anyone, if it was just you out on your own…No schemes, no Keyblades, none of that…What would you want to live for?"_

_For a man boasting about his lack of emotions, Xigbar seemed to have many swirling in his eye when he looked at him more fully. Chief among these was rage, but there appeared to be others, too. He acted as though he hadn't been asked a question like this in some years. Dilan observed how he tightened his grip on his guns, almost on pure instinct. He leaned back on his pillows with a raised brow, awaiting an answer._

_When Xigbar next spoke, his tone was surprisingly brittle. "This is all I got left."_

_No sarcasm, no jokes, and somehow, no lies, at least not what he could detect. That confession sounded all too raw to not be the truth._

"_Only if you let it be that way, Braig."_

"_Again with the name! Quit it." He rolled his eye, starting to walk through the portal. "Whatever, I should have known this would be a waste of time. Just don't tell anyone about this, or I might have to kill you for real."_

"_He's still a part of you!" Dilan raised his voice over the whirring of the portal. "I know he is!"_

_He noticed a certain vulgar finger emerge from the closing portal and heard a sardonic chuckle. "Keep telling yourself that. Later, Sideburns."_

* * *

_So very much like him to have the last word. Dilan watched the black and purple spinning bits of matter dissipate into nothing. With a tired, forlorn sigh, he let himself lay back down and sleep off the fading adrenaline rush this stressful meeting had induced._

As soon as the water warmed to where it needed to be, Dilan removed the kettle from the stove. He'd set out a china teapot with a green dragon pattern and matching cup for when the tea finished steeping. Pouring the hot water into the pot, he then took out a few leaves from a small wooden box on the counter and placed them in the pot as well. As he did all this, he could not push that intrusive memory out of his mind.

Ever since that day, he'd been grappling with his unease over Xigbar's (or Braig's?) behavior then. The man had been as arrogant as expected, yet between sparing his life and the somewhat revealing words he'd said, his motivations were still difficult to pin down. To be sure, Braig, like Xigbar (if any difference could be ascertained between the two), had proven himself as a fine actor. However, there were certain traits that could not be fabricated and that world-weary sadness in his eye just earlier this afternoon…It had resembled the vaguer, cloudier look that only Dilan had seen during their encounter. That meant his story and everything he'd been through _had _to be true. Braig might never have admitted this, but he must have been lonely; Dilan's snide comment suggesting this had clearly set something off. Likely, these had been his memories that he had kept locked away, even as he tried getting his life back.

A light knocking on his door interrupted his contemplation. Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece, he saw it read four o'clock.

"Who would visit me this late in the day?" he asked himself, somewhat vexed. He wasn't dressed that well for guests.

With reluctance, Dilan answered the door…and saw Braig standing there. He seemed to carry none of the bravado so strongly associated with him as he scratched the back of his neck. He'd slung a knapsack over one shoulder, as though already set to leave. Yet, here he was, standing not quite so still on his doorstep.

Dilan found himself asking numbly, "Weren't you going to leave town?"

"Not til tomorrow. Thought I'd swing by here, see how you were doing." Braig shrugged, shifting from one foot to the other.

At that moment, he felt a warm surge of ire mixed with resentment. How dare this man show up so casually, as if they had anything of merit to discuss? As though everything could go back to normal because he'd finally decided to grow a conscience. No need to dwell on all the chaos and destroyed lives left in his wake. So perfectly convenient for him to rebuild a life somewhere else, where people only knew the Braig from before. He had the luxury of going home but not receiving any consequences from people whose implicit trust he'd still hold. Indeed, with his current position in life, he was probably at his freest, while the others were bound to the recurring ghosts of their pasts.

With more frost in his tone than he'd intended, Dilan said, "Now you've seen me. I am glad you spoke to the lot of us today, Braig, but you needn't do anything more beyond that. Best of luck to you. Safe travels."

_You don't need to do this. Just let things be._

When he started to close the door, Braig lunged forward to hold it open. "Wait, wait, wait! Can I at least have my say before you do that?"

Breathing out some tension, he reluctantly let go. "All right. I'll give you two minutes. I suggest you make good use of them."

"I don't know what else you want me to say that I haven't already," Braig admitted. "I know I can't defend everything I did, and I can't take it back, no matter how much I want to. I really didn't intend to rope you guys into this, but then, that old coot wanted more information about our studies. Turned out he was looking for an army. And then this Organization stuff derailed all of us. That wasn't supposed to happen, I swear. I mean, do you really think I would stab myself?"

Dilan made a point to stare long at him.

"OK, I get why you think I'd be that crazy." Braig let out a desperate chuckle. "I thought this would be an ends justify the means kind of deal. Once I got his Keyblade, I could reset everything back to where it was, including you guys' lives. But…it hit me the hard way that I couldn't play those kinds of games. There was only so much I could control, especially since Xehanort had this whole other agenda going. I just went with it because I was already in too deep. I should have died rather than betray all of you, but I was too selfish." He shook his head. "I didn't want to die not knowing what happened to my people and whether or not there was anything I could do. And I know it's been over two minutes, but that's the gist anyway. I'm sorry, Dilan. I'll leave you alone."

As he turned his back to leave, Dilan touched his elbow. "Hold on. You mean to tell me the Organization was formed on accident?"

"Well, that all depends on what you mean by 'accident'. I was led to believe we'd be a shadow organization of _regular _people, but obviously, Xehanort had other plans. Sure as hell didn't let me know of that before stabbing me in the goddamn chest, amnesia or not. It wasn't enough that he let me lose my eye, nooo, he had to go and do that, too…Eh, it doesn't matter much now, does it?" Braig waved away his impending rant. "I was obviously ready to throw everything away, eager even. I didn't care as long as there was that pay-off. Nothing changes those facts."

"Maybe not," Dilan murmured, opening the door a little wider. "But, also nothing says we can't try to improve the rest of our lives either. Actually, why don't you come in? I just brewed a fresh pot of tea."

Braig stared at him as though he'd sprung two heads and a tail. "I'm…I'm more of a coffee guy myself."

"Your masculinity will not be threatened by drinking tea, I can assure you," he said dryly, even as he felt a smile tugging at his lips. "I just can't help but notice you have a lot to talk about. Might as well do that inside."

"Sure. Yeah, that's a great idea."

With that, he welcomed Braig into his home, something he hadn't done in so long that he'd almost forgotten their occasional lunch breaks here. Some major changes had taken place since those days. A saggy, faded brown couch (its appearance not helped by the chip crumbs his friend used to leave) had been discarded, white walls painted a gentle grasshopper green, and a few more decorative candles had been placed by the far window. Not so much the disheveled home of years past but a place much more lived-in and cared for. Signs that he had not taken his new-found life for granted.

In addition to these little touches was one curious cat that approached Braig, who dutifully knelt down and stroked his back. As Dilan went about pouring the tea in cups, he glimpsed the flicker of an amazed grin when Theo voiced his appreciation. And then, almost indifferently, the cat moved on to sniff at the visitor's boots.

"Surprised this guy didn't run away," Braig said with a laugh.

"Theo's always been a bold little fellow," Dilan pointed out, setting the still steaming cups down on the table. "I found him wandering on his own one day, so I'm sure he's seen everything at this point. I didn't think he'd be _that _put-off by you, loud as you tend to be."

"Heeey, you say that like it's a bad thing." He grinned nonetheless as he took a seat.

"You know, we used to say we could hear you long before we saw you. Stomping about, shouting since you had no concept of an indoor voice, laughing loudly…How'd I ever bloody put up with you?" Dilan smirked and sat opposite him, cradling his tea in his hands.

Braig hummed, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Cuz you needed some excitement in your life. Not just you, all of you."

"Yes, I suppose so. You were certainly a presence."

The two of them soon started reminiscing on those long ago days, back when heart studies were not so much at the forefronts of their minds. A much simpler time where their mistakes hadn't yet hung over them like a storm cloud. And, to Dilan's pleasant surprise, he found it effortless to exchange these old anecdotes with his friend. It was almost as though all these years hadn't passed or that Braig had never betrayed them. Perhaps this was the real man sitting across from him and not an actor or a spy finding any conversational nuggets he could use.

"Remember when you tried to entice Ienzo with cookies, but he wouldn't budge?" Dilan asked, taking one of the last remaining sips of tea.

"Oh yeah…He told me he didn't want them because he didn't want to eat all that glucose." Braig chuckled, fondly shaking his head. "I remember being that age and not knowing what glucose even was! Kid's always had a remarkable brain."

Dilan smiled back. "Indeed. Hard to believe the boy's almost twenty now."

"Shit, really? I guess that makes sense but…Wow, we're getting pretty old, huh?"

"At least we still have that privilege," he replied without any trace of cynicism.

For, if he didn't value every day (especially now that they weren't Nobodies), he didn't know where he'd be. Both he and Braig fell silent, pondering over what could have been accomplished in those lost years. Bringing up Ienzo created the additional ache of robbing the young man of his childhood. So much pain they'd caused everywhere but also quite close to home. Dilan felt thankful that he had this time to rectify his past wrongdoings. However, with Braig being the older of the two, he wondered if the other man felt his age then. He'd sobered considerably, swirling the remaining bits of tea leaf in his cup. It was the most pensive he'd seen him the whole visit.

"I really screwed up," he murmured then. "I ruined so many people's lives without thinking much about it. Without having a ton of guilt back then either."

"That's why you're here, isn't it? To seek forgiveness."

Braig nodded. "I got the feeling you were the one I had the most to prove to. The others seemed to accept me again—well, more or less. You, on the other hand…"

"You were right to doubt me. I've been conflicted," Dilan confessed. "I spent a long time being angry at you for everything you did. Angry at myself for not seeing the signs and intervening. And, I'm ashamed to say this, but I was highly skeptical of your latest story. For all I knew, that could have been another set of lies to placate us. But, I didn't want to be that cynical."

The worry must have shown all over his face, for Braig reached over and patted his shoulder. "That's totally fair, Sideburns. I'm still not sure about myself from time to time these days. I get why you were the hold-out."

"I shouldn't have been but…Thank you for understanding." He smiled faintly.

After a pause, Braig asked, "If I told you I did a lot of those things because of my fiancée, would you believe me?"

Dilan gave a one-shoulder shrug. "It would certainly check out with our research. You were engaged at one time, that's on record."

"So, you don't think I made her up?"

"No. It looked like it hurt you to even say the word 'fiancée'."

"Heh, you're observant. And it wasn't 'at one time' either. I never stopped being engaged." Braig smiled wryly before leaning down to retrieve his knapsack.

After some rummaging, he took out a mahogany leather-bound book (Dilan noted the title in faded gilt lettering along the spine: _The Sky Pirates of Cirragia_) that had some wear and tear around the corners. He then flipped through the pages until he found the one he wanted. Once he did, his face completely changed.

Dilan knew he'd spent more time with Braig than the others had, yet he'd never seen his friend like this. There was a soft, faraway glaze in his brown eye, and the planes of his face looked far less rigid. His usual razor-sharp smile was replaced by one much warmer and genuine. Whatever he gazed at in this book seemed to produce a magical effect on him, erasing almost a decade from his features. Dilan realized then that this was what real love looked like when laid bare, and it was something truly profound to see in his friend. The moment may have been only between him and this book, but the way he traced his finger along some image was so intimate that he nearly felt the need to leave the room.

Instead, he settled for clearing his throat. "Are you still here, Braig?"

Yanked out of whatever daydream he'd been lulled into, Braig blinked, startled. Upon seeing Dilan's amused smile, he laughed.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to space out on you like that. It's just…habit," he finished lamely before offering the book to Dilan. "Here. This is her."

He gingerly took it and studied the picture before him. The woman appeared to be in her early twenties here, dressed in elaborate pirate regalia. She stood in a confident pose, one foot resting on a settee while she held onto a nearby writing desk. Her broad-brimmed captain's hat sat at a jaunty angle on her head, her hair tumbling down in loose waves. To Dilan, it looked dark auburn—almost brown, he'd thought, if not for the rich red undertones. Her gray eyes were bold but gentle with a teasing light the artist managed to capture well.

And, in spite of the stately look of the portrait, he could detect a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. That expression reminded him of a similar one he'd once glimpsed in a painting hanging in the west wing of the Beast's castle. Just as mysterious and beguiling, as though daring the viewer to draw his own conclusions about her. She might have stood straight and proper with some attempt at solemnity, yet her personality shone through. It made him want to look further and find out what made her mind tick. No doubt she possessed a great amount of wit.

"She's very striking," he said with an appreciative nod. "I can see how you two would have been a couple. She looks like she'd have a wicked sense of humor."

"That's Val for you. Or was." Braig winced, the gleam in his eye somewhat dimming. "Always the life of the party. I mean, I could be too—don't get me wrong—but she just had something about her…More potent, I guess. She was a real force."

Dilan gave another acknowledging nod. "Your equal, then."

"Beyond, if I'm being honest."

He only hummed in response as he let his gaze drift over to the adjacent page containing a biographical passage about Valeria. He proceeded to skim through it.

_Captain Valeria Gloria Bernadette Manigault, more famously known as "Val Fleetwind", was born in Remmery to Renard and Evette Manigault of minor nobility…_

_At seventeen, she fled from home and soon came under the tutelage of Frederica "Sly Fox Freddie" Thorne (see page 27), a legendary sky pirate in her own right…_

_Her largest boon came in the capture of the hostile ship, the _Thieving Magpie_. She and her compatriots retained over a quarter of the gold and silver bullion, with the remainder going to the captives held on that vessel as well as their families…_

_Manigault was engaged to Keln a few months later, the couple quickly becoming the toast of Silverhurst…_

_For the next two years, the crew of Manigault, Nisk, and Pressaro traveled extensively to such varied destinations as Neverland, Montressor, and Dalmasca. A popular legend posits the mysterious disappearance of Keln spurred a relentless search; such was Manigault's determination to find her lost love…_

"Astounding…," Dilan found himself murmuring. "She was quite the woman, wasn't she?"

"You know that's my fiancée you're talking about," Braig teased, though with a smidgen of pride as well. "And yeah, she was. Her reputation preceded her, if that book's anything to go by. Except they left out a lot of good stuff, like how we met. Now, _that _was a great story. We held each other up."

Thankful that he'd finished his tea, avoiding the danger of swallowing wrong, Dilan asked, "You mean…with _guns_?"

Braig laughed. "Yeah! But, I had no intention of shooting her. Neither did she. She was just stubborn on making out with some of my valuables. We cut a deal where she would work for me for a month in exchange for me not blabbing to the authorities. But, really, I was never going to do that either." He leaned forward, staring down at the book. "I knew I wanted to know her then but not how much. Turned out she felt the same way. We were always drawn to each other like that. In fact, I might have fallen for her a little that night. I mean"—he pointed down at Valeria's picture—"it's not every day you see a woman like that standing on your windowsill."

Nodding with agreement and a small smile, Dilan thought over these words and the significance of such a deep, enduring love like Braig's. He recalled how he as Xaldin had broken the Beast down piece by piece, sequestered in his half-demolished room with that fragile rose. He'd disdained love, pointless except as a tool to manipulate people. It was a weakness, or so he'd labeled it. How could he have been so blind?

Now, he asked, "What did you love most about her?"

"OK, as corny as this is going to sound…Her spirit. She's—_she'd_—been through some things that she wasn't going to let stop her no matter what. And it just bled into everything else. Her humor. How she cared about people." Braig then let out a brittle laugh. "I haven't talked this much about her in ages. Well, there was that one time I almost spilled the beans to you about being engaged to her."

"You remember that?" Dilan let out an incredulous laugh himself. "I wasn't going to pry into that. I assumed you would tell me of your own volition, but you never did."

"It would have defeated the whole purpose of what I was trying to do. Any time it got too painful to think about Val, that's when I'd want to go out drinking with you. I wasn't really celebrating Fridays or weekends."

"Certainly not. You wanted to go out on a _Wednesday _night once."

"Ridiculous, right? And I didn't think I had mentioned the proposal at all back then. I was more focused on the killer hangover I'd had the next morning." Braig glanced out the window with a sigh. "Worst one I've ever had."

"You do realize the drinking was a temporary fix," Dilan said. "There was a good chance you could have forgotten about her after a few beers…but not entirely. Her memory was always going to follow you." He then reached across to give him a firm, comforting pat on the shoulder. "In any case, this explains why you tended to flirt with the redheads."

Braig rolled his eyes, his smile looking rather bleak. "You're trying to joke with me, and I commend you for it, Dil. But, you know, I never took a single woman back with me. I just knew I was going to accidentally call them 'Valeria' one of those times." His forehead creased in thought. "Might have done that while flirting, actually. Anyway, none of that was ever gonna be serious."

Taking a brief break from their conversation, Dilan grabbed their empty cups and rinsed them out over the sink.

"Your proposal must have been quite the event, if it involved that much drinking," he remarked as he scrubbed out a stubborn leaf remnant.

"Oh yeah, it was definitely something. One of the best nights of my life, for sure," Braig spoke much more softly, almost huskily from the memory. "Word spread fast, probably thanks to my friend Lukas…So, a lot of the townspeople got together and threw us this _huge _bash at our favorite tavern. There was so much wine and beer that night—whole place was practically overflowing. And there were so many toasts, Dil, you wouldn't believe. At first, they were general well-wishes, but I can tell you, they got sillier. I think we were toasting Val's ship at one point! Then, she and her friends got up to dance on the bar. She fell off after two songs." He snickered. "Not a problem for me, though, since I caught her. That was a different kind of drunk than later on, you know. Just this feel-good buzz all around. And that hangover was so worth it. So was the sex."

Turning around from his washing-up, Dilan feigned a long-suffering sigh. "And there it is. Always the sex with you."

"What can I say? It played a large role. Though I s'pose I wouldn't refer to it as just sex—it'd cheapen what we shared. It was always making love, at least for me."

While he appeared to drift off into another reverie, Dilan busied himself with dumping out the remaining lukewarm water in the teapot as well as the kettle and dwelled on his friend's words. He would never have suspected Braig of being capable of using terms like "making love" or other such tender phrases. And he could never have guessed the man with the eyepatch and jagged scar had ever experienced such a grand romance. Love so deep and powerful that it'd imprinted itself on his heart. It was a shocking revelation that he even had a figurative heart!

Evidently, there was still so much more to learn about Braig behind the smirk and casual demeanor. Perhaps that should have been the tip-off that he'd had his own set of secrets, too. Then again, he'd never let anyone get too close.

In quiet, measured tones, Dilan said, "You speak of Valeria as though you'd never been ripped away from her. As if all this happened months ago."

"Yeah, well…You don't get over a woman like her. I know, I've tried." When Braig looked up at him, he revealed a smile so frail that it didn't even reach his eye. "And believe me, I've traveled through _time_…Never found anyone close. Can't say I want to either."

After a brief pause, he added, "Being this ancient guy, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that you don't take any part of life for granted. Love, friends, family, any of that. Once you do, it's all over. You wind up like me, trading one for the other instead of seeing how you can benefit from both. What I'm trying to say is I shouldn't have tried getting her back at the expense of throwing you guys away. That was just wrong."

Dilan gave him a wry yet reassuring smile. "You're damn right it was. Only took you eleven years to figure that out. But, you do have this fierce love for her. I can see why you were willing to go to such lengths."

Braig cocked his head to the side. "You ever love someone like that, Sideburns? If memory serves, you had this one pretty lady, but you never told me what happened."

"Oh, that." Dilan winced. "It didn't work out. I got too wrapped up with the work we were doing to carry on with her."

"Maybe you should try again with her, see where that leads you."

_Now he's dispensing advice on my non-existent love life? What universe am I living in? _he thought with a slight shake of his head. True, he appreciated the friendly suggestion, but he held no illusions about his time with his ex-girlfriend. As he saw it, that whole relationship had been misguided on his end. He shouldn't have leapt into it while in the midst of the project, out of some mere desire for intimacy. She'd wanted to go out more often, whereas he'd always been a homebody. To have persisted in staying together would have been to place her in a cage. He'd never put another woman through that again, or so he'd sworn to himself.

Aloud, he said, "I appreciate the advice, Braig, but trust me when I say I'm better off by myself. I'm not the easiest person to live with."

"Bullshit, you just weren't putting a ton of effort into it, that's all. Sounds to me like you were looking for a reason to get out. How long did it last anyway? Three months?"

Well, now he simply felt called-out.

He snorted. "I'm sorry, were you there? And, for your information, it was four months. We'd talked of moving in, but things fell through. That's just how life is sometimes."

Braig held up his hands in surrender. "OK, OK, chill out! I just figure you might not want to end up alone. I'm kinda concerned you won't get out enough and be the lonely cat guy for the rest of your life…Uh, no offense."

"Offense fully taken. I don't think Theo deserves to be slandered like that."

Leaning back in his chair again, Braig bit back a laugh. "You're right, he doesn't. I can imagine he's better than most people."

Dilan allowed himself a chuckle at this. "As a matter of fact, yes, he is. But, I see your point. Perhaps I'll bear that in mind in the future."

"Eh, I don't like 'perhaps'. 'Definitely' would be an improvement."

"All right. Definitely, then."

Glancing over at the wastebasket, he remembered his next objective: burning all his useless drafts. He dragged it over to the fireplace and picked up the book of matches on the mantelpiece. Just as he was about to light the logs, he was interrupted by Braig.

"What's all that?"

He turned toward his ever nosy friend, who'd tilted his head to one side while staring pointedly at the wastebasket with all its crumpled pieces of paper. He should have known he'd be questioned about this—in spite of his one eye, nothing seemed to get past Braig, as true now as it was back then.

Half-heartedly motioning toward the wastebasket, he explained, "Just some rubbish drafts of this letter I'm trying to write."

"To who?"

"Well…as silly as this may sound…it's going to be to Belle and the prince of that world. You might remember him as the Beast. I still recall all that I put them through when I was a Nobody, all that emotional torment. I know turning the Beast into a Heartless was meant to be a mere side mission…but there was another reason I kept coming back." Dilan then released a heavy sigh. "I wanted to break them. I wanted to see how their love could be torn apart, so I could prove that love itself was weakness. I'm not sure how much of that was Xaldin or me and my useless bitterness. Anyway, I wish to make amends to them. They need to know how sorry I am. It doesn't help that my return to normal life has been…an adjustment to say the least. I don't know how to face myself, let alone anyone el—what are you doing?"

For, Braig had gotten up and promptly snatched a scrap from the wastebasket.

"Gonna read what you've got, what do you think?" he replied with one of his cocky smirks.

"I told you, they're all rub—"

"Shhh!" He lifted a finger to silence him before plopping down on the couch to start reading.

Dilan could only look on helplessly, torn between gratitude and offense for this interference. Yet one more thing that remained the same with Braig: his insistence to stick his nose where it didn't belong.

On the other hand, maybe that annoying propensity for meddling could be put to good use. Dilan couldn't deny that he was in need of a second opinion. In a state of mounting anxiety, he watched Braig peruse this draft (apparently, one of his longer ones). He noted how his eyebrows were knit together in concentration as he stroked his chin. He kept his face carefully blank, making it difficult to tell what he was thinking.

_I hope he'll have something actually constructive to say and not one of his snide remarks, _he thought though believed this to be a slim possibility.

Perhaps that demonstrated a certain lack of faith in his friend, but Dilan figured it was only realistic. After all, the man rarely took anything seriously.

"Mm-hmm, not bad." Braig finally gave his verdict before looking up at him with a grin. "I don't know why you'd even go through this many drafts…I think I got an idea."

"Always a dangerous thing," Dilan said dryly, crossing his arms.

"No, for real, I think it'll help."

"If you insist…"

"Come on, Dil, trust me on this. My advice is don't try to sugarcoat anything but don't rehash every single thing you did either. I'm sure they'll remember. Maybe mention a bit about how messed-up we really were in those days…I mean, more messed-up. I think you've been sincere enough where they'll buy that you're back to who you were before—you're a hell of a lot nobler than I'll ever be. And just…you know, be honest. Shouldn't be a problem."

At the moment Braig suggested honesty, Dilan gave him a look that was as dry as a pile of good kindling.

He said, "Yeah, you, honest," at the same time the other man, with a self-deprecating chuckle, said, "Yeah, I know, me, honest."

Upon realizing what they just said, they both laughed.

"Ha, jinx!" Braig then lightly punched Dilan in the arm.

"Yes, well," he replied haltingly, looking more abashed, "clearly, neither one of us could have predicted you'd be such a strong advocate for truth-telling."

Braig shrugged. "What can I say? I just got the swift kick in the ass that I needed."

"I would say you've received several of them, but what do I know?"

With another quiet chuckle, he shook his head at this but otherwise had no rebuttal. They lapsed once again into an easy, companionable silence as Dilan started the fire. He placed his drafts a few pages at a time, gently stoking the flames with the poker. The only one he saved was left on the coffee table. If Braig had found some decent qualities about it, then it had to be worth saving. Once every other scrap of paper was in there shriveling up, he replaced the screen and simply watched the fire do its job. What was going to be a bitter task had turned freeing, the weight lifting from his shoulders. As the paper blackened to cinders, he couldn't help but find the sight soothing.

"Hey."

He turned his head toward Braig, who still lounged on the couch but with a very serious expression. Dilan couldn't shake how alien it looked on his face, which always seemed to twist in amusement or sarcasm.

He then added, "I didn't realize you had that much on your plate. I should have asked how you were doing instead of yammering on about my issues."

Dilan smiled. "It's fine, Braig. You're just a natural storyteller."

"That's a nice way of saying 'rambler' but thanks," he drawled, grinning, before sobering again. "I was just thinking…There's a good chance Val could be dead. I almost don't wanna go over there tomorrow and find that out."

"I wouldn't give up hope yet," Dilan said more sternly than intended. "She could very well be alive. Stranger things have happened. Look at us and the times we died then revived. How many times have _you _technically died?"

"Let's see…" Braig then counted off all his "deaths" on his fingers. "Four, unless you count the time I walked into that group of Heartless. Then, it's more like four-and-a-half. I probably got more lives than he does!"

He pointed at Theo, who idly wandered toward the fireplace to be closer to his owner. With a brief, full-body stretch, he flopped down on his side, begging to be scratched.

Dilan obliged while still engaging with his friend. "Then, you see my point. She could be out there somewhere."

"So, suppose I do find her. How do you think that's gonna go?" Braig asked, sitting up more fully. "'Hey, babe, sorry about the ugly scar and one eye. Still think I'm a catch?'"

"Braig…"

"Or, OK, say she doesn't scream and run away from me in terror. I actually get to tell her everything. And I mean _everything_. Do you really think she would accept me after that?" He glared reproachfully at Dilan as he said this, with the latter thinking he might have heard his voice waver.

"Now I see why the others have been accusing you of self-pity."

"Really? Going with that argument too, huh? I'm not feeling sorry for myself, Sideburns, I'm just being realistic here. Val's not going to take me back, and honestly, she'd be better off!"

_All right, _Dilan thought as he rose to his feet, _looks like he's going to need a dose of tough love here._

"Oh, be quiet, you pessimistic ass!" he scolded. "I guess I'm going to have to show you."

"What—?"

With no further explanation, Dilan grabbed the book from the dining room table, sat down next to Braig, and flipped over to the page on Valeria. He then pointed at the specific line that had struck him most.

"Look at all these places she went to after you vanished. Dalmasca especially is no small distance from these other worlds."

With his chin in his hand, Braig leaned over, glanced at the line, and shrugged. "She could have just been trying to move on, and that was her way of doing it."

"_Or _she spent all that time looking for you," he said, tapping against the page for emphasis. "True, I might not be acquainted with her enough to know her character. But, I do know that if she loved you even half as much as you still love her, she would have stopped at nothing to find you. Does that sound like her?"

After a moment, Braig nodded and, voice hoarse, replied, "Yeah. Yeah, it does."

"Then, what makes you think she would reject you so quickly? She doesn't sound like the type to judge on appearance. And I'm sure she'll understand how desperate you were to have her back again. Probably missed you equally as much. I'd say she'd be rather disappointed to know you'd developed such a lack of faith in her." Dilan gave him a pointed look, knowing full well he was right about all that.

Of course, there was always the off-chance that Valeria would not be forgiving toward her long-lost love, after all. In that case, he'd be more than happy to eat crow. However, there was a persistent feeling—call it delusion or instinct—that told him he couldn't be closer to the truth.

Braig seemed to think as much too, for he let out a resigned sigh. "That's harsh…very harsh…but you're not wrong. She wouldn't be happy with how I was acting right now. She'd probably say that this isn't me."

"Well, it's not. Just so you know."

"I figured. Thanks, bud." Braig patted Dilan on the back with a roll of his eye and a smirk.

"Any time. Although I have to be sure," he stalled, wondering about the ethics of his idea, before launching into it. "I propose a bet."

"A bet? Over what? Last I checked, you're not Luxord, even if you guys do sound similar."

"Hush, you, let me finish. I bet you 100 munny that everything will work out for you and Valeria. She will have you back in her life again."

Braig's smirk faded a little. "Come on, you serious? This is my inner turmoil we're talking about here, you can't just turn that into some lousy—"

"I believe I just did," Dilan cut in smugly.

Inside, he hoped he was doing right by his friend and that his hunch would prove correct. If this was the way to drive things home for him—to not give up on what he'd fought so hard for—then so be it. Sure, it felt a bit silly to do this, but that kind of approach had been perfect for reasoning with Braig in the past. Why not now?

Braig raised a dubious brow. "And what happens if you're wrong?"

"In the very slim chance I am…" He trailed off, smile softening. "Then, you get double the amount and my sincerest apologies. But, you must know I'd never dream of doing this unless I was absolutely certain. Like I said, I'm sure she's missing you, Braig."

After a minute's deliberation, Braig shook Dilan's proffered hand. "Fine, you're on! Hope this is worth it."

"It will be."

With that settled, Braig picked up his knapsack and headed for the door. "Well, I think I took up a good chunk of your time. I better get going."

"What about the book?"

"You guys can keep it. Main reason I came over was to bring it back. I did technically steal it, after all. Least I can do."

"No," Dilan said, pushing the book across the table toward Braig. "For as long as you've had it, I'd say it's as good as yours. Besides, when you see Valeria again, you can show her that she made history."

He couldn't help the gentle smile quirking his lips.

Surprised (and genuinely so for once), Braig paused mid-step as he glanced over his shoulder at him. His eye moved rapidly back and forth from the book to his friend, who gave him a small nod to show he was in earnest. Then, seeming to have finally believed these words, he let his face break into a free, easy grin. Dilan swore that he might have even spotted a tear gleaming at the corner of his eye.

"Thanks, man. She probably would like to know that. But, damn," he chuckled, choked with emotion, "she's going to be so obnoxious about it. It'll get to her head so fast, I'll never hear the end of it."

He took the book, his fingers stroking the leather cover, almost as if it was a stand-in for his fiancée. And to him, it probably was.

_We would all be so lucky to have a love like that, _Dilan thought to himself.

With his grin back in place, Braig sent him a two-finger salute as he was walking out the door. But, then, Dilan cooked up a spur-of-the-moment idea.

"How about you stay the night?" he suggested. "I'm thinking you've spent enough time in isolation. And, if it's going to be your last night in Radiant Garden for a while, you might as well spend it with one of your friends at least."

Braig paused again, scratching the back of his neck as he slowly turned around. "Sure you want me in your way like that?"

"You'd hardly be in my way. I could always listen to more of your stories."

He smiled gratefully. "You know what? That doesn't sound like a half-bad idea. I got loads of stories in me."

"That you do, almost too many," Dilan joked. "You ought to let some of them out."

"Very funny, Sideburns. You're killing me here."

For the rest of the night, over dinner as well as casual television watching, Dilan listened to Braig regale him on his old life in Cirragia. Some were the amusing childhood stories shared in the past, while others involved his time as mayor. And still others involved a certain sky pirate captain whose impression was still plainly felt after all these years.

* * *

All of this turned out to be ample inspiration for when Dilan was once again alone with a blank sheet of paper and ink pen. It was one o' clock in the morning, Braig having gone to bed a mere half-hour ago. No surprise that he could be just as much of an insomniac as he was. However, he had been helpful in one regard, Dilan considered as he remembered those oddly sage words of writing advice. With another cup of tea in tow (chamomile this time, so he could sleep right afterwards), he put pen to paper. He produced a satisfactory letter in twenty minutes:

_To Your Royal Highnesses,_

_My name is Dilan, one of HRM King Ansem the Wise's royal guards. You may be wondering why someone in so modest a position would be writing to you. The truth is I'm aware of the pain I've caused you in the past and mean to redress it. I may risk endangering the world order, but then again, it is no more than I have already done in the past. For, you see, I once went by another name, one that I'm sure you did not wish to hear again: Xaldin. Xaldin was very much an extension of myself, true, but also a more twisted version. When I was him, I brought much suffering to others and confess to have taken no small measure of satisfaction in this. That is, a shadow of satisfaction._

_I was part of a group called Organization XIII, which consisted of heartless beings who sought to build a version of Kingdom Hearts to restore themselves. That was our mission statement, but in actuality, we were all broken people destroying the lives of others. As I tried to destroy yours, for which I know there is no use in denying. There is much more to the Organization's history than this, one rooted in aimless theories and dubious scientific experimentation. I know this as an apprentice to King Ansem, but that is too much to elaborate in this letter._

_I will get straight to the point. I'd turned an Organization plot into something even more sinister as I returned again and again to your castle. As Xaldin, I actively sought to harm your relationship beyond repair. Those "visits" were an exercise in what I then viewed as the fragility and tenuousness of love. And I almost succeeded in this so-called exercise. None of this can be casually brushed aside. The fault is mine, and it is mine alone. I can assure you that neither of your highnesses did nothing to warrant this base treatment. You were only two more of the Organization's countless victims. And for that, I am truly sorry._

_Perhaps you doubt me and my sentiments, for which I cannot blame you. It would be so easy to believe that this letter is from a still manipulating Xaldin. Nonetheless, I thought that you should know from me personally that he is no more. As Dilan, my true self, I may not have inflicted these atrocities on you….but I gave rise to them as an apprentice deep in studies of the heart. Thus, I still feel responsible for all that has transpired. I will continue ensuring that I leave no room for such errors in judgment or morality again. You have my word, for all that is worth._

_I leave you with a recent anecdote. Earlier, an old friend came to visit. He too has dwelt in the Darkness, much longer than I had. As to how he got there, he had made sacrifices in order to restore his lost world, his people, and the woman he loved. Before today, I'd only gathered scraps of this friend's history without him to put it all into context. Once he did, I realized that he would have done (and did) anything and everything for his fiancée, whom he _still _loves. Such was his devotion and strength of will. At some point, he'd lost himself in that process, but he rebounded with that love never having wavered. This friend not only helped me with how to phrase this letter but (unknowingly, perhaps) with the affirmation that love is indeed a powerful thing. It is not as easily torn asunder as I as Xaldin once assumed but can endure for ages. And such is the love that can be seen between the two of you, the kind that can break a curse. The kind that will be spoken of in legends. No malevolent being, Nobody or otherwise, could ever take that away._

_I humbly ask for your highnesses' forgiveness for my past misdeeds, even if I prove unworthy. My actions were those of a cynical man who was barely one at all. I have no excuses or explanations other than the one I provided you. May you have a long, happy, and peaceful reign._

_Your humble servant,_

_Dilan_

* * *

Out of gratitude as well as a sense of obligation, Dilan allowed Braig the chance to read the letter in full the next morning before the latter set off. He watched that inquisitive eye scan the page over and over—it was all he seemed to focus on. His orange was abandoned as he read and re-read. Finally, he set the paper down, dazed.

"Fuck…That was…_fuck_!"

Dilan chuckled. "It was an expletive?"

"It's just a great effort. Really. I know if I was them, I'd forgive you ten times over."

"Quite the compliment. But, you know I couldn't have gotten that written down without your help."

Braig only waved this away in response. "Nah, you had it in you all along. Although"—he smirked—"I won't pass up the chance to be called awesome."

"Of course." It was Dilan's turn to roll his eyes.

"You need to send this pronto."

And that advice Dilan dutifully followed as well.

* * *

A week later, Aeleus carried the mailbag down to the basement to distribute various packages and letters. As usual, the vast majority had already been delivered to Ansem, leaving the bag quite light. Aside from the occasional package, the rest of the men didn't receive much mail at the castle. Today proved to be somewhat of an exception.

"Hm, let's see…" Even plunged his hand into the bag, rummaged around, and revealed a satisfactory smile. "Ah, these must be my new beakers. Excellent!"

Sure enough, he pulled out a box stamped "fragile" and set it aside. He then removed what was left inside the bag, giving Dilan a questioning glance.

"Dilan, it appears as though you have two pieces of mail here. And one of them is a munny pouch with a note…You haven't been extorting anybody, have you?"

Anyone else would have been joking with a question like that, Dilan figured, but Even looked quite serious.

With a shake of his head and a gentle laugh, he plucked his mail away from him. "No. You take to flights of fancy rather often for a scientist. And these _are _addressed to me, after all. No need to pry."

Leaving a flustered Even (and amused Aeleus and Ienzo) behind, Dilan walked briskly home to read his letters in private.

The first letter had been stamped with a fleur-de-lis wax seal and addressed to him in a neat, precise hand. Letting out a nervous breath, he sat down on the couch, broke the seal, and began to read:

_Dilan,_

_I must admit that it still comes as a surprise to be addressed as "your royal highness" (I'm still getting used to that!), but I appreciate your deference. And your candor. If I'm being honest, when I first saw "Xaldin" in your letter, it gave me some pause. Adam was rather tense as well. Up to that point, we wouldn't have believed the writer and Xaldin was the same person. Sora had explained to us what Nobodies were and the Organization's schemes, but we never really knew how to take that information. I've always wondered whether or not Nobodies were so different in personality than they were as whole people. I think you've proven that they were, dramatically so. In that case, I'm sorry that you had to go through that kind of transformation. Only having the memories of emotions and not the emotions themselves must have been a hollow, lonely experience. Most of us would be unable to imagine such a fate._

_However, I would be lying if I said I wasn't angry at first. What you put Adam through was unacceptable, to put it mildly. I saw him retreat into himself to the point where he wouldn't talk to me. There were nights I could hear him pacing the castle halls, kept awake by the lies you'd whispered in his ear. It was a very unhappy time for us, though I am glad we've mostly recovered from it. And yes, from you. But, knowing you weren't always this way—_never _this way before, from your account—brings us some comfort. I would like to think there isn't so much cruelty in the worlds as all that. You seem to have genuine remorse for your actions, and I would be remiss not to acknowledge that. _

_It sounds as though this friend of yours gave you the courage you needed to write this! I might never know who he is, but I'm sure he must be a very good friend to you in offering his advice. It also sounds like he's faced many struggles in his life, but it is as you said: it's good that he has come out the other side a wiser, stronger person, as you have. Perhaps it's a bit naïve, but I hope he finds his fiancée. I am fond of happy endings, after all! If you see this friend again, thank him for me._

_Dilan, you are not unworthy of forgiveness, if your letter is anything to go by. You have had to learn many hard lessons and own up to your wrongdoings. After you were restored, you likely had to face those you'd hurt. You did not have to write a letter to us but chose to anyway by way of apology. I forgive you. And with some reservations, I can say Adam forgives you, too. It hasn't been the easiest path to it, but you were truthful and sincere. You couldn't have known what our reactions would be, but the fact you looked inside yourself and wrote this took a great strength of character. Thank you for your bravery. I wish you luck in your continued recovery._

_Respectfully,_

_Belle_

Dilan wiped at his eyes and felt wetness there, setting the letter down so as not to smudge it. He leaned back, relieved yet shocked. A response would have been ideal but not expected—in fact, he never thought he would be in contact with either Belle or her prince again. But, to have one in his hand with a message of honest forgiveness…It was far more than he could have hoped for or predicted. He held his hands up to his face again, getting rid of more tears as well as choking back a sob.

There was still one other piece of mail on his coffee table to consider, and he knew his lunch break had its limit. He turned over the blue velvet pouch in his hand, hearing the jingling of coins as he admired its heft. Once he touched paper, he unpinned the accompanying note. The handwriting in this one was more of a scrawl but no less legible; it was as though the writer was in a hurry and could only dash off a few lines.

But what lines they were:

_You were right, Sideburns. Things turned out better than I could have possibly imagined. Don't spend this all in one place!_

_-Braig_

_P.S. Val says hi._

Dilan laughed. "Good for you, you sly dog."

He had thought he had seen the end of all things: his friends, his home, and his sense of self. With these two invaluable letters laid out side by side, he saw the seeds of a new kind of life starting to germinate. Now that he had this chance, he might as well let it flourish.

* * *

**A/N: Well, this is the second time I've had Xigbar/Braig flip somebody off in this story, go figure. :P I swear if KH wasn't a strictly PG series, he'd be just as PG-13/borderline R-rated a character as Cid in FFVII is with the cursing. So, I want the apprentice characters specifically to overlap in each other's chapters, which is why I decided to have Braig show up here. There were some Xaldin and Xigbar ficlets by ts_soliloquy that I remembered stumbling upon a few years ago and that I went back to again for this chapter. I loved how she wrote a realistic friendship between those guys! And I thought I could do something like this to make Dilan's personal arc meatier: he'd have to forgive someone first before feeling like he could start from a clean slate in asking forgiveness from somebody else was the idea. That and apparently I missed writing Braig so soon after finishing things up previous chapter. :P**

**Other side things:**

**-I might have included some sexual tension between Braig and Dilan without realizing it, oop. Not that I wouldn't ship it (I kinda do tbh...), but I'm starting to think Braig would be one of those characters who'd have chemistry with pretty much anyone. What can I say? Guy's charismatic as hell!**

**-Sorry if the "rough drafts" of the letter didn't read that great. There were strikethroughs originally in certain spots, but FF has taken them out.**

**-I was really going out of my way to make sure I portrayed Belle just right in that last part there. I mean, BatB's been one of my favorite movies for, like, 20 years, I'd hope I'd get her character right lol. Dialogue's one thing but when having a character write a letter, it's a whole other ball game. I wanted to have her be empathetic while still giving Dilan some shit for what he did. Hopefully, I struck that balance.**

**-I originally was going to put Dilan with someone, to go on a date or something small like that. I'd wanted to go with another FF character, but guess what? All the female FF characters I'd considered pairing him up with were no older than their 20s! Considering I imagine Dilan to be in his mid-to-late 30s, I didn't want to go for that sort of age difference. And I didn't want to stuff this fic too much with OCs. That's just another little gripe I have with KH in general. The guys' age range is like 15-80, the (young) women's is 15-24. That's kinda disconcerting that they wouldn't bother throwing in older women in the series aside from Kairi's cameo grandmother.**

**-And hopefully, Val didn't overstay her welcome in this chapter, with her being talked about at length. Though perhaps I shouldn't be too hard on myself. After seeing a certain franchise movie the other night, I at least attempted to give a "new" character development and a means to fit her into the plot as opposed to a rather obvious shoehorning-in. :P I just sort of try to tread carefully where OCs are concerned in general. I don't want them to distract from the canon characters or the larger story *too* much.**

**Til next time, y'all, and til then, Merry Xmas!**


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